I'm gonna get things done to-day. I don't care what happens or how late I have to stay up--Wait, damn, I have to get up early to-morrow. Oh well, so much for that. I'll just ooze through to-day.
I need more Altoids. Cinnamon. Tried the peppermints but all they did was freshen my breath.
And I'm hungry! Food, I need. Do any of you realise just how difficult it is for me to get out of this chair? I'll frequently starve until 5pm.
My hands are cold . . . Getting near the end of Peter Straub's Ghost Story . . . Wonderful book, but actually really taking a toll on me psychologically, I think.
I dreamt last night I met a denim wearing, black haired, mad girl named Peter, sleeping on a tatami mat. I was delighted that her name was Peter--I told her how brilliant I thought it was that she should have that name. She glared at me, but smiled faintly.