Sorry if I’m complaining too much here, but the good news is that the whiskey still works, and I have ego enough left to feel shame at the goings on of the night previous. Sorry if this sounds all-together familiar because: yet again I’m hung up on a girl; again it’s small drinks against the coldness of the night; again it’s long conversations and the hope that something will go right this time.

Ritual, and ritual again, but at least the coffee is warm and I’ve slept enough to last me the week. Of course the words would fail right now; of course I’d walk for miles to find no relief; and of course she calls me when it’s too late to do anything better than attempt to avoid saying anything which will be regretted in the morning. Sorry, this has all happened before, at least this time the booze still works, and she still calls at the wrong moments.

I know this has all happened before, and it comes across as complaining, but I’m at a loss for words; hung up on a girl; and have no way out of it. Good news is coffee still works and I’ve money enough to make it to tomorrow.