It's 6a.m., and the air is hot & thick-damp. It feels like Connecticut outside.
When I went to retrieve the paper, at 4:30, it smelled like rain, but it was just wet air.
The book is creeping too slowly toward the final stages, but it is getting there. The next week is going to be a very special hell. I'm working like mad. Barely sleeping. But I feel alive for the first time in far too long.
I'll be in San Diego from Wednesday the 25th until Monday the 30th. The warm humity of Oakland will be a fond memory, once I hit the San Diego July. For those unfamiliar with the geography of California; Oakland is about 500 miles north of San Diego. San Diego is less than 20 miles north of Tijuana, Mexico.
Yeah, July is fucking hot.
This is probably a stupid thing to say (as I am a firm believer in the cruel laughter of the universe, and so do my best to avoid saying anything hopeful), but I feel good.
Life is light-years from perfect; but I feel good.
