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Saturday, November 23, 2002
I felt like Warp 9 for a week, traveling down to Newport News to help my family mourn and bury my father.
Then I returned to DC, and the engines cut off, leaving me trillions of miles away from my starting point, within an envelope of familiar surroundings.
The issues that were dominating my mental life before my father's death have been wiped away. I barely remember what some of them were, and can no longer empathize with them.
Now I face the daily building of the life I desire. Each day is a big surprise, as each item I've labeled wiggles uncontrollably away from their associated definitions. Buds sprouting in November ...
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