All set for the day that is tomorrow. Forcing self to rest, rest of night. But now I find myself crowded in my own education, self-examination of my pages and what the world wants me to do with my words. What I’m living is nothing like what people see in Syria… was just watching a doc on the civil peril there, and I had to turn it off. Enthusiasm, I think… what I hold the highest herald for. Thinking…. Was talking to a winemaker this evening, about wine and what his family history is, and what brought him to the practice of fermentation. This writer needs to singularize, and its not something I need to wish for. I already have everything, here, in the books. I study and lecture on.