November 19th, 1998

	. It's happening again. I watch the words roll off my fingertips into the bodies of e-mails that must overwhelm their recepients (Kat, Scott, Carol...you know of what I speak.) A simple question and I'm rambling off on a long and winding tale. And yet, when faced with the knowledge that I really must update this sorry excuse for a web-page, I am spent...no words come. This state of affairs is exactly what spawned the ill-fated idea for "Post." I can speak and write it's name now, even though there is a dull ache of "what could have been". . My big idea. . I worried that they wouldn't get it, and I took too long in discussing it outright. When I did finally mention it, I regretted having waited so long, because they understood exactly what I was talking about, even as I was fumbling for the words. . So, what happened? . I dropped the ball. Christopher tried to pick it up for me. He got busy. I got busy. We all got busy. I went off on another one of my overseas adventures. The timing was poor. The timing was wrong. The time has passed. . And still I write those mile-long e-mails. . And I wish they had a home of their own. siempre, Shy . Addendum: I sense snow...I can smell it in the air that is too painful to breathe deeply, I can taste it in the wind that stings my lips and tongue. Too soon...much too soon. Here we go again. Copyright SMQ 1998

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