Not up early, never slept yet. Car stress. The clutch died Saturday night right inside of the Pacific Design Center in West Hollywood. Nathan was with me. I should jump on the Cardwell, Water Wielandt bandwagon and take up smoking as well. Being that it was a holiday weekend, I had the option of using Auto Club to tow me 45 miles back to The OC at a flat rate of $200 or use my free 7 miles to the Santa Monica Acura dealership. Later today I find out if I can pick up my car to the tune of $1400. Vroom vroom.
I can't sleep and the sun in coming up. I'm sweating.
(pause of about 30 minutes)
I'm finding that more and more I'm censoring myself here and I'm doing it for the sake of privacy. (My own and other people's.) This conflicts with my ideal of just free-flow sharing. The air conditioner just kicked in and I feel my skin getting clammy instead of just wet.
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The daily jazz of my mind, as pure & honest as possible; but know that words are themselves filters of the original thought/idea.
