Woke up this morning with a terrific urge to lie in bed all day and read. Fought against it for a minute. Then looked out the window at the rain. And gave over. Put myself entirely in the keep of this rainy morning. Would I live my life over again? Make the same unforgivable mistakes? Yes, given half a chance. Yes.

And what did you want? To call myself beloved, to feel myself beloved on the earth.

There was this funny thing of anything could happen now that we realized everything had.

My circumstances of unrelieved responsibility and permanent distraction necessitated the short story form.

Woke up this morning with a terrific urge to lie in bed all day and read.

I guess my writing has changed as my life has.

I've crossed some kind of invisible line. I feel as if I've come to a place I never thought I'd have to come to. And I don't know how I got here. It's a strange place. It's a place where a little harmless dreaming and then some sleepy, early-morning talk has led me into considerations of death and annihilation.