Why do i feel the sudden urge to disappear off the face of the earth -- flying to Parkminster and writing poetry to God in silence for the rest of my life...?


Oh yeah, there's a bunch of stuff due tomorrow, and it's all so stupid and trivial and so freaking unimportant. I dunno, i'm beginning to think that Dante had the wrong idea in helping to de-vilify literature, and that Teresa of Avila had the right idea in feeling guilty over reading romantic lit... When it comes down to it, the right question has to be asked. Not: how does this play mirror life? But: wouldn't time in prayer be much more beneficial than reading and writing about this crap?



GRRRRR......


I was going to conclude with something like: "I'll try to get back on the sunny side of life after next week," but I don't think i've said anything that i should be ashamed of, so i won't say it, darn it.