2003-07-11 / 5:38 p.m.

Sometimes I forget to do this. I mean to, I log on and I read my notes and I read other people's entires; then I want a cigarette so I go outside and when I come back in I've thought up something I need to tell Brad or remembered a picture I wanted to send David or I need to go look st what scores my poems have for the bazillionth time. I'm flighty. Forgetful.

I made a Woolf allusion the other day; Septimus, no less, and I like it. My notes on the work of DW are pages long. I've written through a whole notepad since I got here. Soon I have to get a job, have to rejoin society (part of it, anyway) and make money to buy books and beer and red things with. I'd rather just do this. Just stay up all night reading and get up early in the morning to stare across the hills and write poems and steal Patrick's coffee.

I went to 5 points today. I just wanted to know I could, that I knew where it was and it's all there for the taking. After parking my car I decided I didn't care very much and would rather be at home watching Buffy and eating peanut butter from a jar.

Cigarette now.

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