Monday, November 08, 2004

Nothing extraordinarily stimulating to report stop.
Just the regular machine of the job working stop.
No really good e-mail to read stop.
Every day a kind of unintense fog all over Beijing stop.
I thought it was pollution for weeks stop.
Part of it is pollution stop.
I try to spend all of my free time writing stop.
All of my energy going toward one thing even when I'm eating or sitting on the toilet or waiting for Angela to return stop.
When she gets home we are going to make dinner stop.
I eat regularly and well stop.
I find myself wondering when it is going to rain stop.
Fighting a slow-drip in the back of my throat or an almost-cold or I don't know what to call it for five or six days now stop.
Still tender from diarrhea weekend at the mercy of Beijing seafood and a turbulent stomach stop.
Writing like a mad freak almost two hours every day stop.
Thinking about it when I'm not doing it stop.
Thinking about not writing poetry or is the other thing poetry stop.
Will you be able to keep up with all of it stop.
I don't know how I finished and started another novel over the weekend stop.
I don't know how I watched all of the Star Wars movies last week and got anything else done stop.
It's how I feel stop.
Like a telegraph stop.

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