it is dangerous — very dangerous indeed! — to being writing this with the few minutes i have now. i would be best served if I went to bed and woke up refreshed. that would be great. but here I am, writing from a Best Western in Manchester, NH.
there is something about these unfamiliar paces. nothing like being alone in a hotel room, sitting on the edge of your bed. in boxers.
if i were to succeed as an a artists, this would be my lot more nights than now.
at any rate, i share because no one is likely to hear it. i go all out.
[nb: we left in all the typos because we feel the truest sense of this particular entry is the attempt to write something poignant through the thick fog of exhaustion. from a noble thought to an ignoble end.]