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9:02 p.m. - August 29, 2003
The crickets outside don't make enough noise to fulfill my want
Bathsheba's on her way to South Africa, A[deleted]a's en route to Arizona, and I can't reach Eli. Quiet, quiet, quiet. I'm writing and the pages come along smoothly, not like corn at harvest time one stalk after another, but not fitfully, either. Plodding, plodding, plodding.

Some days I wonder why I signed the contract. I have five books left to write before I can say, I have no idea what to do and that day is a long ways off.

I am in the mood to go to a bar and don't need the enticement of Trivia. I want to be surrounded by noise and voices and people laughing and perhaps briefly I'll laugh along, not knowing why but laughing all the same.

Have a great weekend.


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