Slow morning, house full of sleeping Weeds, drinking coffee, trying not to think about life. P is luxuriating on new futon, just belched contentedly.

Been slowly reading 'Dhalgren' mornings, have gotten bogged down in extended pornographic section, maybe turning prudish in my dotage, seems unlikely somehow. Various cultural agendas keep getting shifted to burners ever further back, going to overreach trying to get them back into a position to be worked on, burn myself badly.

Have been making a lot of systematic errors touch typing lately, one key off to the left or right depending on keyboard, brain tumor?