I want to write and write...random, wandering, rambling. Maybe it would be a window on my station. Train station that is. I have a thousand engines driving a thousand different trains of thought -- you'd think one of them would actually get me somewhere. As if. Too many trains in the same station, pulling at odds -- derailing each other. Looks like I'll be walking...again. Put those shankmares in a lather. At least there are plenty of tracks to choose from. Problem is, which one to take? And then there are all those tunnels. Some are lighted, some aren't -- but even when they are, some good it does since they all curve around like a dizzy kid on the run. Full of blind corners. But that's not what bothers me so much. What bothers me is the decision. That I might not take the right track. Or the best track. Or the one God wants. Maybe I just need a better conductor. Maybe then I'd get somewhere -- somewhere good.   ¶ 6:59 PM