When I'm Working, I'm Not

There Are Little Thoughts In Your Head That Can Grow Until They Eat Your Entire Mind. Just Tiny Little Thoughts--they Are Like A Cancer, There Is No Telling What Triggers The Spread, Or Who Will Be Struck, And Why Some Get It And Others Are Spared.

I Do Wish I Could Write Like Some Of The American Women, Who Can Be Clever And Heartfelt And Hopeful; People Like Lorrie Moore And Jennifer Egan. But Ireland Messed Me Up Too Much, I Think, So I Can't.

I Do Not Think We Remember Our Family In Any Real Sense. We Live In Them Instead

And What Amazes Me As I Hit The Motorway Is Not The Fact That Everyone Loses Someone, But That Everyone Loves Someone. It Seems Like Such A Massive Waste Of Energy -- And We All Do It, All The People Beetling Along Between The White Lines, Merging, Converging, Overtaking. We Each Love Someone, Even Though They Will Die. And We Keep Loving Them, Even When They Are Not There To Love Any More. And There Is No Logic Or Use To Any Of This, That I Can See.

Description Is Hard. Remember That All Description Is An Opinion About The World. Find A Place To Stand.