I guess we write to try to make some kind of sense of things. If we can’t be the god of what is happening at least we can be the author of our description of it.
In the last month or so, I haven’t even felt qualified enough to be the author while the gods wreak their havoc.
While I ride the randomness of the Thursdays and the Sundays, I don’t trust Life, I don’t trust you, I don’t trust me, and I don’t trust that compass with the spinning needle.
Well, OK, so now what? 
January 10, 2013 at 9:51 pm
You know, it’s funny. I remember when I did write to try and make sense of things. I don’t do that so much any more. I’m not sure whether that’s because things make sense to me now, or if I just got worn out. Or both.
I had to stop and figure out “Garmin”. Got that, now. Onward.
January 14, 2013 at 9:38 am
Even though I know that words never totally capture the reality, stringing some together always helps me with the actual reality. As far as reality making sense? My freshman year poetry book “Sound and Sense” gave sound and sense equal importance. The expression “without rhyme or reason” answers the question, too. When irrational things happen, as long as they sound like Dr. Seuss or have a good alliteration going, they are well within reality.