You can devote yourself to diagnosing the ills of the system, TB. There's nothing I can do about it, and I refuse to take any blame or credit for how it turned out. I had nothing to do with it.

I will concentrate instead on staying alive until the system collapses. There's still something I can do about that. Like I said in an earlier post, there's very little we have to say about how our world is organized, what we can do to change it is severely limited. But we have many opportunities to figure out what is going on and adjust our own plans accordingly.

We can't make the wind blow or stop, but we can always make more sail or take in a reef. AARGH.

As for the writing, I'm hoping for the best but I have no expectations. I'm a good technician, but I think I lack the inspiration to do anything but crank out the occasional magazine article or essay. I've got plenty of free time now, nothing is stopping me from writing the Great American Novel except that maybe
I'm just burned out, used up, blown out on the trail. I've been working too hard for too long and I just don't have it in me any more. I'm tired. I'm really exhausted.

I paid my bills and took care of my responsibilities as my conscience and upbringing defined them. I leave no debts, but there ain't much left over, either.