So I’ve been at this now consistently for two weeks.

I wonder how professionals do it.

I mean it’s a lot of work, dragging chunky bits of scribbling gold out of my head each and every day.

I remember when I was in college, back in the old Twentieth, riding to school on the TTC. My brain was afire with glimmering wondercakes of poetic wizardry. The words flew forth as if I was possessed by the first dictionary-ist.

Sorry. I accidentally a word.

I still have all those scraps, safely tucked away, the ink barely faded.

Maybe I should try to transpose them, as a catalogue of my intellectual and creative development through the millennia.

That way, philosophy professors of the future will have a wealth of pre-lecture ha-has with which to entertain whatever passes for students at that time.

Larson. Epic.

Still, there was a good one i wrote about trees.

Remind me to dig it up before I leave.