[Morning freewrite]
Well.  Today's the day all the relatives come in.  Begins to get antsy here.
I do anyhow.  Got mail from my mother htis morning -- looks as though my
father may arive before the end of the week as well.  We'll see how this all
ends up.  May happen that in this mad world I end up seeing everyone before
I go.  Who knows?  who knows...

I look to the outside of my soul and wish I could find a meaning there.  But
I know.  Inside is where Imust seek.

It seems that we are trained in this society to always look outside of
ourselves.  Neither psychology nor religon is strong enough to overcome the
examination of the physical world and look towards the inner world.  This
may be why nurture is in predominance over nature at the moment -- look for
causes in the external world rather han in the internal world.  The mind of
people, it would seem, holds nothing for the modern.

The modern.  It is a dated term.  Un-dated, yet dated.  To speak of the
modern is to forever speak of someone who lives in the now.  But twenty
years from now your modern will be different from the new modern.

Reading the Diary of Anais Nin.  Definitely a thing to be read and
considered.  There is nothing in life that has a meaning other than this.
That was a random thoiught.  Shows how tired I am right now.  The Diary of
Anais Nin is about being able to be true to thyself.  To introspect.  To
overcome internal difficulties.  To live.  To explore.  To become.  It is a
great series of books....

Henry Miller and Anais Nin have certain indefinable elements in common.  Not
indefinable, but rather, I have yet to define them.  Seek them in more than
an intuitive sense.  I don't know what it is about them that is similar,
merely that they are similar.

I should get the Diary sent to me on the Trail somewhere.  Or Henry Miller.
Not sure which.  Not sure where.  And I'd have to go seek a web apge to do
it.  *sigh*  Am I ready to go find that?  I don't know.

There is something left for me to say somewhere I know.  Yesterday I picked
up my letters and began to write replies.  A voluble spew.  But hte hardest
ones I left for last.  THe ones that deserve more than a what am I doing
reply.  The ones that deserve some thought.  Why leave them for today?
Yesterday would have been so much more appropriate... I do not know.  I have
yet to finish my sewing!  I don't know if that concerns me or not.  I need
to sew.  But I need to write.  But I need... I suppose sewing should take
precedent as I cannot sew while on the trail but I can write there.  I don't
know.  I feel badly that I haven't finished writing to all that have written
me.

I also need to organize a short list of photos and scan them in at Trevor's
house.  Then I can post some pictures from last year on the web.  Not sure
which I want though.  There is very little that strikes me in photo form as
it did when I saw it.  I need someday to research cameras and film and buy
one that takes good, sharp photos outside.  Both daylight and night -- I
want to capture the glory of the stars someday.

I am tired.  It is the continualness of the push rather than the push
itself.  Staying up late for several days working on cleaning and organizing.
Takes its toll.  Too long too long.  Now my eyes are wanting to close.

[End morning freewrite]