Fragments

Working on Endgame by Beckett with my class today. Not sure if I am up to the task. The Absurdists/Existentialists are tough going for me.

So fragmented.

But then, I suppose, so is life. It is only onstage that we get to decide on a superobjective and a through line of action that ties it all together.

I am getting better at posting here, and I keep thinking I should start to round up my diary/journal.

I have one, you know.

It is on paper napkins and scraps of paper.

It's on the backs of envelopes and the backs of the schedules for the substitute teacher.

My diary is hidden in to do lists.

My journal is wandering all over my house, in my messenger bags, in half-filled spiral notebooks and on tiny purse-sized pads of paper.

Now if I could only pull all those scraps together.