I caught myself fretting this morning. Fretting about nothing, really. In an attempt to distract myself and put all of this fretting aside, I now sit here in one of my favorite coffee shops and, the same as most days, put words on paper. Rarely do I sit here and do nothing. Mainly I think. Ideas and memories and perceptions are tossed around in some Binary Amphitheatre of the Surreal and the Real, whirling them around and shooting them out onto the page in salad-spinner style.
I find myself in this divergent universe . . . Continue reading