February 2012
11 posts
S
Woke up.
10:30. In the morning.
Go back to sleep.
No really asleep, just resting my head on the comforter.
Twirling my hair with an index finger.
Face down. Can’t see.
Can hear arguments and resolutions
both around my immediate presence
And in the past.
Wake up.
Fuck, I’m tired.
Drive 8.9 miles to Costco.
Get my eyes tested for glasses.
Talk about my struggles with the...
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“If what’s always distinguished bad writing— flat characters, a narrative world...”
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