Friday a good friend who'd read my recent entries asked me if everything was alright. I had a hard time convincing her that it was. I guess I should mention that I found a book of things I wrote about 4 years ago. None of this stuff is recent. My life has been too good the last 4 years for me to write anything decent. It's been that long since I've felt the angst and dissatisfaction with freaking everything which fuels that sort of writing. When I'm content or optimistic, which is 95% of the time, the stuff I write has no artistic value whatsoever. So, to those of you who read, no, there's no trauma or sadness or drama or anything else going on to elicit that stuff. I just found an old book.