A beautiful sunny day, not too warm, not too cool. It feels like the weekend, which it's not. It feels like summer, which it's not. In the past week or two, I've managed to finish an important essay for The Lunatics' Ball and to rewrite two other important essays (all short, but not easy). I've been sitting outside in one of our new wicker chairs today, reading Geoff Dyer's essay collection Yoga for People Who Can't Be Bothered to Do It, almost as much fun as his book Out of Sheer Rage, which made me laugh out loud when I read it last week. Inspired by Dyer, I sat down and wrote one of my strangely circuitous inside-my-head flash-length nonfictions, starting at the Hotel Paradox. Fun to write and revise and polish. I have two writing groups where I could share it, but sometimes my writing just feels like me (a voice that I get, even though others might not), fine the way it is, so I won't. I hope I don't spend too much time trying to place it.