Had such plans for the day...was going to catch up on all of the readings of blogs, catch up on all of my podcasts, catch up on all of my writing, catch up on the final installment of Roots on my Netflix...
It's 7:04 pm and I have spent the entire day basically in and out of consciousness.
But I will say this...I'm not at work.
I did get some rest, although not really sleep (I would start to drift off, exhale too much in a sigh of the sleep, and barrel through a coughing fit)...I had some pho, I had a Coldbuster smoothie from Jamba Juice, I managed to drop off and pick up my laundry, I did finish Roots, I'm up to disc 5 in Season 7 of West Wing that just arrived from Amazon yesterday, and I am caught up on concrete (wish I was a B52 fan), MojoDad (wish I had read and/or saw "No Country"), Treated and Released (wish my mom was here), Breed 'Em and Weep (wish my mom was here), and Opinionhead (wish I had a place in the desert, even if I have no horse with no name). See, I can be useful, and have dreams, too.
Out my window, someone has made a rich meal with meat and snow peas. The sunset is burning a ridge on apartment bedroom wall across from my window, warmly. A planes exhaust line has burned a hedge of white on the blue sky over the wall. I'm reminded of some space when I was younger, last summer or 6 summers ago, I don't know which.
I'm not loved, but I'm alive. That's a start.
More to come, dearest reader. I always think of you and the words. :)