I skipped Joe Fusco at the Asylum tonight because I was just not feeling up to it. Feeling very medicated, very sedated.

I hate my absence from things.

I have ideas about what to say about a lot of stuff in my life, but I can’t seem to put words around it. Sad excuse for a poet, eh?

It’s like the whole world seems suffused with a sweet pain these days — a feeling of the last days, so live them well.

More tomorrow, when I’m coherent. Sorry for this.