Second cup of coffee, and I just said to my daughter, “Okay, Emmie, we’re going to coffee our way out of this cold!” Took papers out of the backpack, and some other things out of the black clutter-justifier. Anymore, I find I don’t need this goddamn bag anymore. Again, just a place for me to stick shit and forget about it. Not a writer. The writer travels light, always. I want the image of me as one with a book and a Comp Book in one hand while walking to class, only exception being when carrying papers to return.