slept late. good talk with mom over coffee. meant to do important things, did other things. snafu in the bursar's office means new ulcer for me. better perspective today, amazing what sleep will do. got to get back on the horse. it is so fucking hard to get back in the saddle, jeez louise. that said, for operating half dead from the flat of my back, i'm doing one hell of a job. i don't need to be in california to remember who i am. repeatthis phrase ten times daily in front of mirror? i have other things to say to the mirror. papa sent me a paasage from goethe. goethe makes me think of his gardens in germany, makes me think of how nice germany was, makes me think: be bold and mighty forces will come to your aid
watching a baby cry in the cafe, i don't believe in reincarnation. half sissy, half balls out, i need to go back tp paris, get this goddamn pain in the ass degree, staple gun it to my wall and drunkly aim darts at it until only shreds remain. if my dart throwing skills have not changed since last exercise, my wall may crumble before the offending document.
read craig arnold's book again. exhausting, in a good way. that, and i told mother everything i hate even telling myself.
keep writing, matt says and dad says it, too. the more i feel like i've been beaten with a hammer, the worse this shit gets.
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