Just ran into the guy (OK, Russ, his name is Russ) who was buying the Frothy Shakes record at the Distort Grand Opening, he's found a place to live & die in L.A. he seems happy with, told me a little about his partner's work with fabrics, will maybe send me some pictures later, groovy. Didn't realize how tired I was till I went out for walk, almost fell over a couple times, would just go to sleep now if it didn't mean I'd wake up at 1 am, unable to fall back asleep, slowly sinking into total despair. Hazy, fuzzy, listening to Magazine & the air conditioner, maybe the reason I have so much trouble falling asleep is that I get a lot of decadent, sensuous enjoyment out of being sleepy. Making an astonishingly large number of typos, guess I'll need to give up on that secretarial job I've been coveting, think I'd be really into being chased around the desk, seemed like a great person to work for, suddenly all hands.

Hoping to get some more legit writing, perhaps drawing, done while in Maine, but think it's unlikely to happen. Last year when there barely managed to squeeze in some postcards, will be there slightly longer this time but a novella is still probably out of the question. Maybe a few one act plays & some set mockups? A slim volume of love poetry with illustrations by the author? Set Virginia Woolf's suicide note to music?