September 18, 1997 Empty I feel empty tonight. I haven't had a single interesting thought all day. I feel dry as a bone, creatively speaking. In other words I can feel the depression oozing into my bones, threating with its icy breath and I'm fighting like a little trapped bird, beating my wings against the bars, crying out for freedom. Never mind. Maybe I am more creative than I thought. The best thing about today was corresponding with Winnie and Raoul. As usual the company of friends is always the best balm for sadness and an aching heart. I miss too many things. Have too many regrets. And I have to work on Saturday. Next Previous