November 14, 2003. Journal Entry. Berkeley, CA
it’s 11:13 pm. everyone in the house is asleep
i have a spider bite or something on my wrist and it keeps itching
what happened today:
erica drove for isabelle’s field trip
i ate at vik’s
the roofers didn’t come
there are too many noises out here – raccoons or opossums climbing on the roof. i don’t
like it. i could never go backpacking in the wilderness alone; way too scary.
i just thought about christopher walken
i found a kid’s story i started about a girl named sylvie who can hear ants whistling.
it’s really cute. i want to write more on it, but i’m worried i won’t be able to
recapture the spirit of it. the voice i wrote it in. i’m always like that, thinking
“oh, that was an unrepeatable moment”. it’s very rarely true.
i’m sitting in a lame old desk chair that i bought at a salvage yard. it’s totally
uncomfortable. i’ve been using it for years. why don’t i get a better chair?
right now i’m thinking:
that writing something is better than writing nothing
i should go to bed