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No “share a kitchen” homes. Who’s gonna’ raise the bridge? No low rent rooms, above convenience stores! I promised myself, that I would write, this is what I am going to do. Perhaps, along the way, I will find myself writing about some such things, more than any others; basically, I do not know, what is going to happen. This is about as necessary a thing, I need to do. I told myself today, that I didn’t care about that, I think, I’m becoming (unreal) really, really, sick, and I can’t let this happen. There is already way too much resistance, to this program of recovery. Since then, and since making all sorts of promises, and proclamations, I have sat around, vacuumed, wondered about my sanity, and employment prospects, very nearly (in fact, entirely) got involved in some movie on TV. These are all automatic, behavioral responses, that I have to fight off, with all my being. There will be quantity, my sincere hope, is that a quality, will be revealed here, as well. The sole…no, there are many, many, reasons, for my doing these exercises. The reason I am doing four things at once, rather than three, is to make up for lost time. Anyway, today was busy, if unproductive. I did get an oil change, I stopped at several funeral homes, looking for (knee’s, feathers) employment, went to an employment agency (15 mins. before they closed). Right now, I am at complete, total, and utter, cross purposes, upset, is not the word for it. My hand hurts, a writer’s, hand hurts? There are dark thoughts, of all sorts, going through my head, I feel like I am not doing, what I need to be doing. All I seem to want to do, is bitch. Someone asked me if I was going to write today. I feel like such an absolute, and total phony, and loser, a faker, liar, I do know, exactly, how I feel. They only ask, because they wonder why a writer, never writes (well, great question). I did go wrong, now, I have to make these wrongs, right. Perhaps, I am a schizophrenic, well, I know I am (can you keep a secret?). Filled up the tank. It still doesn’t work. No real leads, I have to make time, here, to talk about the million dead chickens, and a book of extreme close-up pictures, of people’s faces. We waited like Lester and Louise did. I was celebrating this book’s publication, and completion, before it was even written. Be afraid to look down. So, please excuse me if I refuse to feel any feelings about it, now. Forget the chickens. The faces all looked the same, I mean, it’s weird, I don’t know really what to say about them, none of them were ugly, or good looking. Amazing what hair, and more of a head, can show. I can today, feel the chubby-tummy, fat, jiggling, and wiggling, truly resolved to stop it, end its long reign, over me. There were many declarations made, on my walk, many discoveries, and rediscoveries, many battles were waged, verbal battles, between the two different selves, that are really, one. I woke up today, so depressed, this can’t be/must stop. I wanted to quit smoking today, too, only to go on and smoke as much as I usually do. I don’t have enough time left in my life, to worry about silly things, like this, but it is my top priority, for myself, and for myself, alone. The cheese will be itself, without any mustards. My emotions are all fucked up, I am in some real dire straits, I don’t know what to say, and I have to know, at this point. Some stupid shop, some crap hole, there is no time for this, I need to know, what to do, no matter which me, needs to tell me these things. There will be no cheating, whatsoever, during this exercise, though I could, no-doubt, imagine, a great many ways, to do so. It’s only proper, to have a pillow, in a pillowcase? Oh. Let’s hurry up, and get this done. What I’m finding out (which is a good thing to know), is that I have an awful lot to say. No more acting, agrarian! I need help, that can’t be asked for, from people, who don’t exist. From now on, I don’t want to say, it at all, I want to write it, right here. What if you lived your whole life, in Milwaukee? Something has gone terribly wrong.