7:19 PM - Just back from shul. Back in the house of my childhood. You can go home again.

I yearn to write and more-so to be read, as much as I dread others hearing and judging my words. Do all writers struggle with these contradictions. I think maybe. This past Thursday a colleague came to my office and asked if I had a few minutes. Yes. No. But yes. Meryl Feldblum and I had just last Tuesday co-advised/chaperoned our school's contingency at a poetry slam (at which we won the award for best gazhal). Meryl was inspired by the event to write a masterful, personal piece of poetry. To me a wow. She raised the question of whether the written word urges other to listen, to read. Yes.

And yet.

7:51 PM - I've been sitting here for the last half hour plus. Been tweaking Pandora, checking emails, the usual things we do when we stare at the computer. Time to live a little. I'm going upstairs to watch some basketball with dad, maybe eat a little salad, perchance to prep.

8:20 PM - Just had a quick dinner with dad (hslabw). Gruenkern soup for dad. Some of that and more for me. Dad says that he can find the whole but not the ground. He laughed when I said you could probably buy them on line. You can get the ground gruenkern here, and the whole gruenkern seeds here. My fellow J-Blogger (is that term still used?) "Guess Who's Coming To Dinner" writes about it here. A commenter there links to this site, which says that gruenkern is green/unripe, roasted spelt and shares the history of how it became a food. Another of Dinner's readers links to this video which shows the old school way of harvesting the gruenkern.

11:59 and Beyond -

Time to stop pumping music thoughts into my head
Time to climb the orange brown stairs and go to bed

They say you can't go home again,
Here I am - if not now, when?

Hours ago I daydreamed of things to write here
Now the deep ones have all disappeared.

Good night and G-d bless you, and you, and especially you
Remember that the only way out is to let G-d carry you through.