[Morning Freewrite 5 minutes]
Today.  A shorter freewrite.  Becuase I am in a hurry to get to work.  Isn't
it sad when real life intereferes with art?

I had a dream last night of being a hiker once more and going to isit old
friends from college.  It was strange and yet appropriate.  It was.... I
don't know.  My ideal of college (the dream ideal)  has always seemed to be
a giant library where one cna play and one can read for hours.  Where one
can experience architecture rahter than simply drawing it.  That was a bit
random wasn't it?  It seems that I am sure of things that go together even
if I can't quite express them.  Not true.  My mind is  a bit tired and so I
am writing things together that may not have a proper intereaction.  There
was a library in my dream.  I only saw it from the outside, but I knew it
was a library because it was the giant dome-shaped building.

There was once a time when I would have been unable to write for fear that
what I was writing would offend people.  Is this still btrue.  Yes.  But I
am gettign over it.  I need to get over it.  If I am always worrying about
other people, I will never be able to free myself to write what is true to
me.

In this regard we find several influences.  The most lasting must be an
episode of Newhart in which Bob writes a book that everyone thinks is a tell
all.  Names are remarkably similar.  Situations seem like real life.  So
many things could be true --- yet hesee's it as fiction and everyone else
sees fact.

Where is this freewrite going?  It has no direction.  It is the best
freewrite I've written yet, I believe.  It has no direction no direction, no
direction.
[End morning freewrite.]