I must be lean & write & make worlds beside this to live in.

Hour by hour, day by day, life becomes possible.

Over coffee and orange juice the embryonic suicide brightens visibly.

I never feel so much myself as when I'm in a hot bath.

I must be lean & write & make worlds beside this to live in.

And so I rehabilitate myself - staying up late this Friday night in spite of vowing to go to bed early, because it is more important to capture moments like this, keen shifts in mood, sudden veering of direction - than to lose it in slumber.

There is a certain unique and strange delight about walking down an empty street alone. There is an off-focus light cast by the moon, and the streetlights are part of the spotlight apparatus on a bare stage set up for you to walk through. You get a feeling of being listened to, so you talk aloud, softly, to see how it sounds.