Here's the problem: It gets wearying sometimes, making meaning out of experience, and I am getting wary of the trap that Garrison Keillor laughs at when he says "Nothing bad ever happens to a writer -- it's all material" and when that happens it's because nothing happens to you anymore, only in the stories told for the audience. I was sitting in my backyard last week and looking up at the sky and felt a misplaced compulsion trace the top of my consciousness to describe the bird flying by and the sunlight and wind on the leaves rather than just enjoying it, just being open to things rather than writing a story. There has to be a time for experience, a time to leave things in piles. The narrative has to stop, to rest, and life has to begin in order to have a narrator who can speak and speak true.
There is also little news, but movement along fault lines and my own copies of the Berlin wall.