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January 14th, 2018

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.

Later,
Aunt Beast




6:30 p.m.