nothing we can say

Blogger tells me this is post #501 for me. I have been writing in this public journal for almost four years. The posts in the beginning were embarrassingly overreaching, and the posts now are uniform and rigid. In some time I will die and these posts will evaporate like 501 drops of morning dew.

My affect today is contrition. I am feeling bad because I made an offer to a friend of mine, induced reliance, and then rescinded that offer. She could have a contract claim against me if she weren't the antithesis of a person who pursues contract claims. Mostly I am just worried about her, and wish that I had my shit together enough to carry through with my promises and make her summer a little sunnier, and hope that she will be okay.

I recently discovered that a little story of mine was published in some Harvard rag after I graduated. I didn't know about it, and nobody told me about it. That's not really important. Anyway, I reread it. And if you would like to read it, it's here. Scroll to page 25. It will take up approximately eight minutes of your time.