JOURNAL :: January 30, 2019
I’m writing in the dark. It’s early - don’t know how early. Pre-dawn. I’m on the couch in the basement. I can’t see a thing. I’m sure this writing is very sloppy. Hopefully it will be legible. Or maybe it doesn’t matter. I can see that the piece of paper is lighter than everything else. A lighter rectangle. My notebook is on a pillow on my lap. Hugo used to call it a laps: “Can I sit on your laps?”. Coming down the stairs to the basement I know it’s four steps, then the landing, then eight steps, so I don’t need to see. Why don’t I turn on a light? I thought it would be fun to not to. The journey of a thousand blog posts. The revelation is that there is no revelation. Every day is every day. Keep the mistakes in. You’re already on the other side.