I write inconsistently. The urge come in phases. It hasn't struck in a profound or meaningful way in many years. I've always had a lot to write about, but I just didn't stop to do it. I keep notes, snippets, phrases, and poems penned on little pages. If I were collect my notes, I'd have something more to say. Right now, I've got a lot to say, but it's all for people. Names and faces, ya know?

Mostly I just want to apologize. Some people I want to thank. A few I want to congratulate. There's a few more I want offer sympathy to. And there's one person that I would only wish silence on.