1:56 PM PST - Jan. 06, 2004
i feel really depressed right now. i think it might be my psoriasis drugs in combination with something i ate. it's a known side effect. i have to will myself out of it. it's days like this one where i am supposed to write. days when i don't feel like writing. when all i feel is the ping of my right ankle and how i can't really walk on it. i don't know how i sprained it. i know it's not broken. it's a little swollen, as if i got stung by 20 bees right at the top of my foot. it's dreary today. dark and gray like the pigeons at my sill. i went to the mall for lunch and had a bowlful of noodles and lamb and pork and chicken and beef. mongolian. i guess mongolians ate everything in one big bowl. i want to take another writing class. something different from jack. maybe another poet or writer with a different perspective than just method writing. i feel lonely at work. i want to talk to someone. anyone. i want to go home. i am sleepy but i don't want to sleep. my son might do something new and cool and for once i want to be there. to be there. on my desk there are pictures of my wife and son. these were my christmas presents. each time i look at his face i know today he is a little different, a little older. more willing to jump from high beds in a single leap. this morning he found a tray of ice cubes from the portable freezer and brought them to me. i twisted it and gave him an ice cube. he stood, giggled, then lifted his shirt to show me his belly button. button button he said with the glee of knowing he made me laugh.
