There is a wealth of information brewing inside me on the subject of love. I was wishing I could put it all into words as I perused the journal section at Barnes & Noble. A blank page is a very alluring thing to me. I of course have little formal training in the written arts, apart from a good English teacher I had in high school.
It’s an odd sensation to know you could write volumes on a subject, but then feel stuck for putting down even one coherent sentence. What occurred to me at B&N is that I cannot keep these ideas and feelings inside me for the rest of my life and expect it to have been a fruitful one. They are profuse enough that it becomes a ridiculous notion not to make some kind of use of the sum of their parts.

originally published on 10/1/07