the summer has passed-quietly is such and I can only recollect a few nights of misdemeanors. Sometimes I think that may have been a mistake but my liver is grateful as is my mind because its better for me to think than just to merely act upon nights and grow tired and weary faster.
I feel full up to my brain through my nostrils with cotton dust.
I leave to move to france in a short 23 days. This is both exciting and I hope it will be culturally stimulating. My worry over funds is great however, and my lifestyles requires a great deal of tweaking and momentum. I require a great deal of books to read, and I hate to borrow because I never want to return. My library fees are out of this world and skyrocket whenever I lack the funding to purchase my addictions with their beautiful covers and vellum pages.
I've been writing in the same little red moleskin all year, for over a year now. i think I will abandon it at home and carry my new journal, brown leather bound and beautifully embossed- made in Italy- with me to France. I feel like whenever I make a change for the positive forward thinking I require a new writing development to take place. I hate to complain, I want to observe, and objectively at times. It bothers me that the book is lined but we shall make do with what we have.