Better late than never?

I always forget to post at a reasonable time.
Example, my sonnet is written on a piece of paper stuck to a cork board at my dilapidated hut.

But this post is about Fred Turner.
He is a WONDERFUL speaker. I brought my significant otter (or wombat as I affectionately call him) along with me. A surprise to me, he loved the reading. My wombat wished that he had gotten off work early to sit through the whole event. I loved Fred's writing style, the passionate visuals. I love visuals. Loved the poem about the bursting pear trees in the spring. That poem made the biggest impression on me, not that the others sucked, just the pears blooming captured my mind.

The next day in class he talked about nothing. And how nothing is everything. And how discovery of nothing involves everything. How being active and reactive is the act of discovery. I followed all of it at the time, but trying to recreate his mind's path is proving itself extremely difficult.

If he comes back to Bozeman, I will definitely go see him speak again.