dear interested party

surroundings are indicative of nothing but themselves. the plains of my desk remind me of my desk. i ate some cakes earlier to banish the graze of hunger upon my insides and i couldn’t move. i complained of feeling sick, i tidied up. it was mainly my clothes that formed a small drift against the legs of the chair.

i am hoping to sleep soon, my social side sits on a balcony opposite in the bitter night air reading a russian novel. close your mouths, here is something. you will get what you seek. and you think you are anxious! i have written only two pages while seated at this desk, and i am due to leave for sagada very soon. i promised myself a hundred pages in three days. this is pre-emptively halfway down one of them; the first one. two pathetic pages; hardly the foundations for publication or even a lasting relationship. i am tired, the boulevard curve of my spine aches from the base.

a gentle, anxious search for the journal that confirms my frugal creativity is underway as a slanting lightness inside my head is opening out into the room and i hold a yawn at bay. the height of the rooms was to be expected i suppose.

i saw a lot of tall buildings today though, and a lot of old ones, too.

newsprint covers my hands but that isn’t what i need. i need to know of the old dictionary worn at the corners and torn on page four two six. on that postcard is a horse-drawn tram. and down there or over there, people laugh, three people, three men. there is the camera i bought. i just didn’t think to carry it with on those expeditions to the city.

that is my coffee mug, i made it this morning (the coffee not the cup). i have forgotten yesterday already, and i write this quietly because my sister is sleeping. i am free to question my own stamina, and my literary impotence; it bears upon my day, lashing it down. i try to guess the time and think of how much is left before i have to move. i am unsure but it is okay because in the end we won’t go out anyway.


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