No matter that I might want to write—or to have written—something profound or even moderately meaningful, I just cannot. There’s nothing consequential clawing to be released from the confines of my brain. Instead, there’s only emptiness in search of a place to setttle wherever it can. Motion without motive or meaning. These days have become such useless routines. At least they have no value; and they have no cost.
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Wish you could make it back to your blog to share whatever you can, John. You are missed. ❤️
You have written and shared so many ideas opinions, and experiences with so many. Ed and I have saved quite a few of your posts, but wish we had saved more.