End of July

Today I rode into the city with Maria, she dropped me at Philz and I worked from a patio high-top all morning. The day was moody gray and a single persistent mosquito kept pestering me. I don't react to their bites, certainly not the way Maria does, she welts up immediately and for days sometimes weeks, but still—a mild annoyance.

I got a lot done. My productivity ebbs and flows, big time. I've never been one for consistency. I was in a serious slump. But a few weeks ago I uninstalled StarCraft, and immediately felt the effects. I started getting manic, telling Maria how much I'd gotten done all day. I'd sneak up on her and bite her, tell her I woulda been president if it weren't for StarCraft, for GSL, for Tasteless and Artosis. That the CIA was watching and they were installing StarCraft on my PC, trying to put the hook back in but I wasn't biting.

We made a whole roast chicken tonight. Never done that. Enjoyed stuffing it's little cloatal hole with lemons and garlic and thyme. Could stand to learn to carve better. I watched three YouTube videos on it while the bird was in the oven but as soon as it came out, I'd forgotten everything. We ended up tag-teaming it, ripping at it with our hands and burning our fingers. Tasted great, though.

M says it's time for bed. We've been reading Darth Vader comics at night. I do the voices. I do the evil protocol droid best.

I've also been reading a wonderful book called Shark Drunk, about two Norwegian men trying to catch a Greenland shark from a dinghy, alone among the icy floes, hoarfrost, desolation. I tried reading outside but with the cicadas it's twice as loud as reading in the living room while M watches her show.