Funny thing, writing. I feel compelled to do it here (not so much in my written journal as much, the typing I think gives me more freedom), but I often agonize that I don't have anything to say. I fear that I have no imagination. I would love to write fiction but I feel like there is nothing I know well enough to be authentic about. But at least here I can just put words on paper and exercise those basic muscles.

I wish I weren't so damn susceptible to the coming and going of sunlight. It used to be that I'd be depressed during the winters, and then cheery in the summers. Now it seems that just the sun ducking behind a cloud drags me down a bit. But I'm doing the best I can.

I've been increasing my physical activity lately and boy does that feel good. This weekend I bought a bike!! Andi and Doron took me to good old Kmart to help me pick out a reasonable model, and then we rode the subway with them until we got to Central Park. It had been 20 years since I'd been on a bike, but my god, it was great!!! I'm still wobbly, and I'm going to take it really easy until I feel more steady, but when I got it right, I felt like I was flying! I remember as a kid whipping my bike around the apartment complex I lived in, my white and pastel banana seat bike, while I sang "Holiday Road" from National Lampoon's Vacation and Sunday I recaptured some of that. I can't wait until I can do it again.

And I've been walking on my lunch breaks, some of them (I don't want to burn out), and today I jogged for about five minutes just to feel the difference. I want to keep it gentle so I don't fuck up my knees, but boy I loved it, being in Central Park on the wooded path, no one around me. I climbed up to the Block House and sat with my eyes closed for a few minutes and it just seemed like this astonishing way to spend a lunch break. My walks are turning into a great way to cultivate some solitude.