F 1-19-01 10:06 AM

I’m tired. I went to bed early last night, but I’m still tired. My lungs are a little raspy today, and I’m sneezing here and there. I hope I don’t get sick. I typed fifteen minutes last night. I was reading an entry from March. Back in March, I was on page one hundred with Jim. Now I’m four lines onto page one hundred forty-one. At first I was all excited to think I have written forty pages since March, maybe fifty, in the last year. Then I remembered I inserted headers and footers that probably account for about twenty pages. Oh, well. I wish I wrote one hundred pages a year. Or three hundred. Two pages a week would be a hundred and four a year, right? I don’t think I can manage two pages a week. Some weeks I probably could some weeks. I slept until seven twenty this morning. Showered. Had no time for anything but to get dressed, pass out kisses, and drive the car to school. Then, I singed in and crossed the street to Taco Bell.  Hate myself for that. Got a newspaper and a couple chalupas and a burrito to bring to class. Ate it while we checked over our phonics. Answered some questions about sleeping and dreaming. At recess, I read ten pages of The Crossing. He visits and old brujo for advice on trapping the wolf. The man says there is no order in nature save for what “death puts there.” The kids are writing book reports now. When I’m done with this, I’ll read the paper. I may have to run home at lunch because my inhaler is not in my backpack. I’m supposed to go fishing with Rawler tomorrow. Then we’re having dinner with the Kepler’s at my mom’s. I still have to call DWP and send in the car payment. Maybe we can see a movie this afternoon or Sunday morning. What did I do with that roll of film? I thought it was in my backpack, but it’s not. I’ll have to grab Modchill’s address so can mail him Slope Dope. What else? I wish I had baseball on Sunday. I need some photographs to fill these dead places when I run out of things to write.

The twins and Carolina always say everything to me in chorus. Then they giggle and fall down.

I’m in a Caspian depression. The sky is gray. I could go for a Red Bull.

Deah and flesh mesh.     Whatever

What else? I should have saved this space to mount a photograph.

Blah blah blah.

Maybe my brain would work if I read the news. I didn’t smoke yesterday. Had three drinks