I can't think how many times I've wanted to say that to someone this week. Just lost count. Although it's not cool in certain circles to confess you listen to current music (heaven forbid it's at the top of the charts.) I disagree with that. It denies the validity of artists relating to the world we live in now. Anyhow, people can be so-o-o invasive. You should'nt feel guilty. You're right to reclaim time to yourself for whatever reason. It seems the more accessible we are, the more accessible we're expected to be. Then comes agitation, resentment, disgust with self for not speaking up to hold onto that moment, hour, day, week, or month of privacy or whatever it is we so need. I can only take so much socializing, then beyond that limit go into this downward spiral, cannot hear that writing voice, cannot deal with my own life, am no longer of any use to others.

And it really takes so little to get rejuvenated again. A few fat splotches of solitude. It's miraculous almost. And so simple a remedy--what could be simpler than coming away from the world? Lots, I guess! For they follow you, pursue you, track you down, want to know what you're up to, how much time you can spare for them. They ring your phone, leave guilt producing messages on your machine with their voices all in a snit, knock on your door, holler through your window, check known contacts as to your whereabouts. It becomes harder and harder to escape.

These lyrics haunt because I too need space. Dear sweet friend of mine, if you need solitude for any reason, take it and bless you. If I could, I'd bring you great big bushel baskets of it, fill your storeroom abundantly. I will miss you, of course, but I know you'd do the same for me. There is nothing in the world so jolly fun and cozy as a catch-up with a refreshed friend you've missed, then come together with again. Especially a writing friend--lover of words.