I've gone to another first session with a therapist. This one reminds me a bit of myself and William Burroughs, and while I'm not sure if that is exactly a good thing, he's at least an interesting person. I'm going to go back. He actually called me a poet, which was a stroke to my ego if not entirely accurate. Speaking of poetry: I'd like to get together with an illustrator and get something going as far as putting If I Were A Camel and Motorcars Are Loud into a publishable form sometime soon. The problem with that is that I don't exactly know how to do that. My friend's mom knows the illustrator for the Franklin series, and I wonder if she'd be interested or not.