Woke up in a bit of despair at how little I can do to save my world. I started writing & realized creating something new & hopeful is a small thing but it’s what I have to give. Thought of the Dylan Thomas lines “time held me green and dying though I sang in my chains like the sea” - I will sing

Editing a lovely story at a bookstore cafe on a sunny morning but also aware of an older lady walking by again (slowly, gingerly) with her coffee refills, I am haunted by the growing conviction I am becoming Miss Bates (Emma). Ever sinking from past comforts as I chat on about tv shows & old movies

I’m genuinely sad (and furious) about how far the NYT has fallen in terms of the most basic journalistic standards

Apparently the NYT felt pressured to say something re the Musk tweets but were also desperate to avoid offending him so produced this cringing, obsequious piece that notes “there was criticism” but then hurries to essentially call him a free thinker & straight shooter www.nytimes.com/2024/09/16/u...

Unable to sleep, sitting in the dark, eating cereal, and finding comfort in 1990s Law & Order marathon. Realized this is my Sunset Boulevard era

Reviewing manuscript and enjoying the sun today when this corvid came hopping toward me and cawing for a handout.
Luckily, I found part of a stale bagel to offer up. This used to be a safe neighborhood!

Sometimes it seems loneliness is not so much situational as it is free floating and descends without warning like heavy fog

Having meowed me awake at 5 am just to keep her company, Olga is now resting up for second breakfast #CatLife

Okay, I completed my word count while there is still some Saturday left (!) so off to see “Landscape with Invisible Hand” where it appears I will be one of four in the audience

Saint Olga says good morning. Her love language includes the occasional bite