Wednesday, April 30, 2014. I never will understand the ways of the master craftsman. The way his strokes seem to speak philosophy or physics or somewhere in between. The way he catches words out of the air in a wooden net and puts them on paper. His work is neither dull nor useless. It is not a report nor like the emotionless, motionless, ignorant. Syllables we use to make haste in our speaking. I will never understand the muse of the master craftsmen. I feel as if he knows me, too. I find in the gutter.

The Lemmings are not for turning. For me, I want to know that there are others besides myself out there that care, that we should all live well, not just those who cut the most throats. Gina Ravens advocates for the wealthy to be sterilized.