*i never made promises lightly, there have been some that i've broken. 2003-03-30 1:18 a.m.*

i couldn't sleep last night from the shaking and the thoughts. oh, that sounds dire. my brain was itching for me to write, and then, i was just freezing cold. i've had this wretched cold for the past few days and the main symptoms from last night were the chills. i could not get warm, no matter how many blankets i had on, because it always felt like i was missing part of my body. i held my hands between my thighs to warm them up, which is much less dirty than it sounds, and was much less productive than it should have been, because i was able to warm the sides of my hands that were touching my thighs, but my hands managed to chill each other. meanwhile, my brain itched for zine writing, but i just couldn't reconcile getting out of my bed for creative writing, and so instead i attempted to make sure i remembered what i wanted to write, by touching body parts and tracing my room with references to my zine in my mind. "that pile of zines on my floor will remind me of this. the way my wrist has been hurting will remind me of that" and i do remember it, but it seems so much less urgent. but i think i will get to writing now. i've at least got some shamefully late letters to respond to, particularly to someone who's in the military, though i don't know at all what to say to her.

*listening to: "marilyn monroe" - dan bern*
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