I should be at the office pretending to be working, but here I am, in front of the computer. I wanted to read the latest posting of a dear friend who faced the bitter inevitable last weekend and is about to find out (what I hope not to be) another later this week.

I should be at the office channeling my concentration and earnest thinking about Roland Barthes and the seducing text. Instead, I find myself being seduced by the idea of the unthinkable.

I should be at the office and be a guide to my students into the lair of books and reading. Instead, my thoughts and ideas are splattered in a million places, wanting to come home.