I Don't Like Outlining, Because

I Had My Whole Life Planned.. I Knew Exactly Where It Was Taking Me.

... A Gaggle Of Old Ladies Is Glued To The Window At The End Of The Hall Like Children Or Jailbirds. They're Spidery And Frail, Their Hair As Fine As Mist. Most Of Them Are A Good Decade Younger Than Me, And This Astounds Me. Even As Your Body Betrays You, Your Mind Denies It.--there Are Five Of Them Now, White Headed Old Things Huddled Together And Pointing Crooked Fingers At The Glass.

Life Goes On With Fragile Normalcy.

I Am Ninety. Or Ninety-three. One Or The Other.

...if You Expect People To Try To Do Things Your Way, You're Going To Have To Give Some Hints As To What That Way Is.