Victor Hugo

Noon hour. I like the idea of freedom. It’s hard to do anything without this belief. And contrary to what people say, we’re always free anyway. Free to run a red light. Free to steal a loaf of bread. And free to pick up my bass guitar and rock this town… from the comfort of my own home. What is everybody doing today? An airliner is flying overhead, surprisingly.

One forty. I jammed on my white bass and the cops did not shut me down. I almost wish they would have. It would’ve been acknowledging that I’d made a sound… Still no message from Suzanne, so I hope she’s okay. If my brain weren’t so scattered, I’d pick a great novel and read it. But my attention wanders after a few chapters. I’ve never read anything by Victor Hugo, one of the giants of French Romanticism.

Three ten. I found my copy of Les Miserables, and my sense of freedom and justice bids me to start reading it. We’ll see how far I progress. It’s over 1400 pages, but there will probably be time to finish it. I’m thinking that the book will fortify my courage for the unforeseeable days ahead. Human behavior is rather experimental currently. Take it day by day and expect the unexpected.


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