About last night . . .
Last night I wanted very badly to blog. Not write in my journal, not watch a movie, or read a poem, or talk to a friend, but to blog. To say something to my infrequent visitors some of whom I know and many more whom I do not. Really, it doesn’t matter who you are and, to tell you the truth, I’m not interested in finding out.
Today we had our first department meeting of the Fall term. In the early winter and mid-spring, a storm will hit. We’ll know better the size and force of that disturbance once we are notifed of the size of the coming budget cut we were able to delay for one year and one year only. My gut tells me something there is that does not like our most vulnerable employees.
After, some of us were headed to the local eatery/drink joint. I had an hour and fifteen to kill and wanted to get something done, doable if I forestalled conviviality for half an hour more. When I got home, into my comfy shorts, and sad mac tee, I was headed directly toward tomorrow morning’s run. I would clear from my perception the haze accumulated from the scant four hours I’d slept and no nap. I feel like Thomas Jefferson.
After dinner and thinking carefully about why I love writing and being alone, I didn’t feel so bad for not being where I’m not.
I’m the hunter.