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what is the word

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Wednesday, October 13, 2004

Sometimes I get so tired of seeing myself write it all down, my monomania, my laziness, my inability to see things as they are. & then I write it anyway, because there isn't anything else to be done.
Up on the roof at Anna's last nite, we pulled our coats around us & pushed ourselves against the rails so we could see further out into the city. There was a canker sore on the center of the tip of my tongue & the wind was hitting it now & then & it hurt a little. We moved to the south side of the building so we could see more of Brooklyn. Anna was speaking in her strong, clear voice & I was looking down at the sidewalks of Bushwick where the darkness was broken up at intersections by the lights of the bodegas & I wondered if I was supposed to feel guilty.
It's exceptionally grey & murky in my cubicle today. I think I need a nap.

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