Last night while the rest of you were sleeping, I wrote a beautiful "Keatsian" manifesto simplifying problems so complex it was like the Rosetta Stone in its ability to make clear the indecipherable.
Unfortunately, it all disappeared, all those words I was sure I'd remember in the morning, I forgot.
So this morning, as I arrived at my lonesome strip of desk, I had work to do.
No time for blogging.
I'm behind the 8-ball.
Not a comfortable place.
I'll try to write later, if I get a moment.
I heard yesterday from an old Mexican League friend, a pitcher called Squint Quninones. He'll be in town, passing through tomorrow on his way to visit old teammates in Boston. He was hoping we could bend an ear and an elbow.
I haven't seen or heard from Squint in 40 years, so naturally I don'y want to miss the chance to have a beer with him.
No story from Squint as yet, except maybe the story of how he got his nickname.
But no time for that.
Like I said, I'll try again later.