Things are broken. A surreal night. I am very busy days, but now it is dark. Short sentences and wandering eyes against the wall. In the morning, there will be light and later, waking, but now there is only thinking and breathing. The veins on my hand are visible and I am watching them. I will be going back to Los Angeles and San Francisco sometime in August, cash permitting. There are few things so useless as wasted time. Bury me deeply and sing. Got to pay the taxman. Now, I’m smiling.