the car place. Or tire place more specifically. And I won’t fill this day’s 3rd page (or actually, technically, yesterday’s..). After this, running, then campus, then writing and writing and structuring and finishing this goddamn novel! I’m a novelist, right? So where the hell’s the book?
Sipping some cheap coffee in a little styrofoam cup. Not bad actually, quite tasty with a quiet rile of oak and spice, if I’m not overanalyzing. And why doesn’t this laptop red-underline ‘overanalyzing’ but does to ‘overthinking’? Technology always aggravating and inconsistent. What can I do to this day to make it epic, or extraordinary, mammoth in how it’s paginated? Think music, of course.. jazz, and how beautifully momentary it is.