[_Journalized_11.04.11_]

The universe is trying to tell me to take my hands off the wheel, a little bit. To not take myself so seriously, I think. Figuratively. I don't believe in a sentient universe, you see. Anyway, I don't know whether I'm trying to listen at all.

Today, following a fellows' lunch at the St. Botolph, I somehow wandered onto a bus bound for Newton. I write this as I make my way back to Boston. Is this what it is like to discover some little corner of dementia, the Alzheimic mind?

"The Dirt Baby" arrived at the Kindle store, today, published by Mixer, out of Indiana. I'm holding off on putting the link here, although one can find it in other ways, because the store has mis-titled the story by one crucial letter. And so it goes.

The universe is trying to tell me something about taking oneself seriously, perhaps. I haven't figured out the part about whether I'm listening.



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