Baghdad is in chaos, and pollen chasing my brain cells around.

I was on campus today. Worse than the sound of jackhammers, the piles of rubble: the evidence that we now have been over-constructed. An absolute monstrosity of donor's vanity rising to gloat over everything.

But, oh, I love those writing boys. Trevor took me to lunch in the cafeteria, and one of them appeared at our table. Sometimes, I suspect that this one has watchers out for me since he appears every time I'm on campus. But he's sweet and sensitive, about to graduate and doesn't know where he's going. But he always wants to tell me another installment of a story, always so excited about it. I ran into another guy on a sidewalk, curls down on his forehead, looking up out from under them with a small smile. And I thought, "That one's a writer, too." And I know he is, songwriter, at least. I remembered how lucky we are to have them; they're so vulnerable, so brave. They feel so much, and the choices they make cost so much. I love the young women too; many of them become lasting friends. But there's something especially endearing about those boys. Long may they rave.
posted by Sandy at 8:37 PM