Most Writing Doesn’t Take Place

One Of My Favorite Activities As A Teen-ager Was To Watch Television Over The Phone With My Best Friend.

The First Thing I Think About When I Wake Up Most Mornings Is The Fact That I'm Tired. I Have Been Tired For Decades. I Am Tired In The Morning And I Am Tired While Becalmed In The Slough Of The Afternoon, And I Am Tired In The Evening, Except Right When I Try To Go To Sleep.

When We Stopped To Rest And Tony Tried To Figure Out What Was Wrong With His Compass, I Asked Him What He Thought It Was About Orchids That Seduced Humans So Completely That They Were Compelled To Steal Them And Worship Them And Try To Breed New And Specific Kinds Of Them And Then Be Willing To Wait For Nearly A Decade For One Of Them To Flower.

I Might Have Missed My Calling As An Editor. In The Spring, The Sight Of My Empty Garden Beds Gives Me The Horticultural Equivalent Of Writers' Block: So Much Space! So Many Plants To Choose Among, And Yet None Of Them Seem Quite Right!

Sometimes, The Internet Can Feel Like A Middle-school Playground Populated By Brats In Ski Masks Who Name-call And Taunt With The Fake Bravery Of The Anonymous. But Sometimes - Thank Goodness - It's Nicer Than Real Life.