Time passes as a freight train that is empty.

The tentacles of responsibility and time have intertwined to pull me under the surface again. I have breathed in the ocean and in the heady brine I have lost my place in the order of the flow that dictates my movement.

Classes come by and I have passing fever dreams of populists and progressives. However the specifics are like swamp fire projected onto vapor and lost as quickly as they were born. I have become a passive observer of the swirl of activity that has me pinned at the center of the vortex that is my existence, my angst, my void. So from here I will take a more active dive into the disturbed and turbid water that is life.

I will re-engage with the noise and motion that apparently are students. What could they possibly need from me? I have given all I have and there is nothing left and still their hands are outstretched and all I have to give is the part of my soul I haven't burned yet to keep warm. And so I ignite once more.

Also, I waited too long to get a turkey this year and had to go with the weird goth cousin of Thanksgiving dinner, the ham. I sat in silence and shoved pork down my throat alone in the kitchen while my daughter came home only out of pity to play Uno and disappear again into the festive dark.