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A bad pain morning, and it's cold as hell her. All my joints are filled with ground glass. Currently, it's 22˚F, and the windchill is 8˚F. There's snow coming. The sun's bright and devoid of warmth.

Yesterday, I proofed "Elegy for a Suicide," "The Road of Needles," and "Whilst the Night Rejoices Profound and Still," from the ms. for The Dinosaur Tourist. And that got me through ms. page 118. I should have done twice that much.

The pain and the depression and the anxiety and the inability to write, and I just want to be anywhere that's warm and green.

Aunt Beast

6:30 p.m.


Jan. 14th, 2018 05:39 pm (UTC)
You and Spooky should come visit my little town; northern coast of California, redwood trees on one side, ocean on the other. Okay, so the San Andreas fault is literally a five minute walk from my house...but it's pretty here, people are nice with a high weirdo tolerance, and it doesn't snow.