I just posted an old draft that's incomplete.

Got back a couple hours ago from Crepes on Cole where I was grading SSJE essays answering the question "Can people be trusted to govern themselves?" Ran into Molly--another Berkeley English teacher--who was knitting and sharing pots of tea with her husband and two friends.

Since I haven't been posting, I'm wondering what to write now. I think the only thing I can do is just keep going as though I've been writing regularly. At this point anything in the past few months I've either dismissed as unimportant, or forgotten, or eroded smooth with so much reflection that it's not really interesting anymore.

Here's what I'm thinking about--writing. Reading my students' essays I see their minds working, struggling to organize the words. Now I'm trying to write with a lot of thoughts swirling in my head, none of which have a shape. There's an American folktale from the plains about a cowboy named Pecos Bill who rides a tornado until it dies down. That's what writing's about, riding the chaos in your body and wrestling it down into language. Except, like in the story, as soon as you tame it it's a dead tornado.

Umana left me a great message last night. He was eating a peanut butter sandwich, reading John Donne, Anthony Lane, and something for a class on modern Chinese history, and because of these things (except, as he clarified, the Chinese history) he thought to call me.

Brianna arrives tomorrow. Ugh, I've got soooooooo much grading to do. I'm looking forward to the assignment my classes turn in on Monday--one page scenes creating characters. I need to talk to Chade or Rick or Umana about more fiction-writing exercises.

I want to go here.