Here in Providence, it's sunny and 18˚F, but the windchill is at 10˚F. We still have snow from many, many days ago.
Pete Seger died yesterday. I'm not sure if I have words for that. No, I don't.
I haven't left the House in eleven days.
Marooned in Rhode Island, one thing I miss most is noon. There is no noon here. Not really. The sun is never truly overhead, but always hanging somewhere low towards the southern horizon, and even in summer there's the ugly wan light of autumn.
Though I'm not having seizures, all the other things the Lamictal was treating are back. My thoughts are a bucket of broken glass. I truly do not know what to do. I'm not going back on the shit. Yesterday I seethed and thrummed and there was nothing else at all. And this winter has ground me down to bone. I am not well.
I didn't work yesterday.
I've lost a month. The first month of 2014 is pretty much over, and I lost it.
That's impressive, even by my standards.