"Many a secret that cannot be pried out by curiosity can be drawn out by indifference." -- Sydney J. Harris
He was a journalist, by the way. I don't really consider myself a journalist in the newsy, hitting-hard, investigative way. I'm a journalist in the "I keep a journal" sort of way. Lying in bed last night, we talked about why I write. I told M.s. it's because I can't figure anything out with mere thoughts alone. Writing helps me organize my thoughts, it helps me understand my feelings, and allows me to purge some of the clutter, the clouding, of my mind. It's cathartic. It's eye-opening. It's coherent dialogue with myself. But on to more important matters.
The numbers are dwindling for SPAMALOT! Ronaldo and his lady are not going to New York at all anymore. Bee&Gee are going to New York, but they don't have tickets for the show. That leaves Kip, Renee, Mel, and us. Tonight we'll have friends over for a Holy Grail viewing to get us in the mood for the show and refresh our memories of the intricate plot involving murderous rabbits and knights who go Ni!
Now back to writing.