March 18 (retroactive)

maybe west was failure. maybe east is the beginning of time. the beginning of my ancestry the beginning of the sun

the need to exercise sends me walking queasy. The gray and cold make feelings of vomit. music relieving it for a while. Down the path of ice. Legs gone out. Sore. Vertigo comes on, sends me sideways walking, almost falling into the mud and potholes filled with brown bile. Finding my reserve of strength is used up. And old beagle whining eating trash. home to coffee and food and music making me so high it’s blinding.

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