2004-02-19 / 12:26 a.m.

I write less when I have a good day. I think it should be otherwise.

We played in stores and spent little; bought trinkets of plastic and spoke of kicking what displeased us. No more fighting.

The headaches have reached crippling status and the pills are gone. So more needles tomorrow. More waiting room magazines and eyes hidden in my sleeves.

Atleast I have new poems.

I'm looking forward to the road. Very very much so.

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