From my journal:
Monday, October 15 3:15 p.m.
The lack of correspondence I have had with this little book, my loyal and always attentive companion, of late should serve as some signal to the enthralling and constant demands on my attention. My inability to spare empty moments for the necessary release of tension and extraneous thoughts that I collect signals the amount of anxiety that plagues me. Now I am faced by the sorry statistic of these three entries over the past sixteen days (one of which was interrupted and thus ends midway through the fifth sentence), and the thought of making up for lost time is almost as stressful as chucking this book into Lake Michigan and never writing again.
What is my life coming to?
Monday, October 15, 2007
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