"Wet, dreary, showery West"

Things I forgot about but remembered today: post-yoga cigarettes, bone-chillingly cold weather, how gin was once my favorite spirit. I haven't been reading very much lately, except for the occasional chapter of Journey to the End of the Night and newspapers, mostly The Chronicle or The Wall Street Journal. I make plans and immediately dread them - what if the bus is late? What if I have absolutely nothing to say to them today? Have I worn the right thing? Did I bring enough cigarettes? Living in the Bay Area has worsened my anxiety. Re-reading Kierkegaard's The Sickness onto Death - which I do sometimes before bed or on BART - doesn't make it any better. I'm upset that I didn't bring more books up during the move, especially comics. I eat a lot of barbecue - unlike Los Angeles, you can get a good barbecue meal here for under $10, sometimes even $5. I get tired often, not just in a way that means I need sleep, but tired of certain people and situations, like how the white people in my neighborhood fail to look me in the eye every goddamn time, or how I can't walk anywhere without someone asking me for something - money, my number, a cigarette. I read The Atlantic Cities almost everyday, even though the articles often feel incomplete. I got new boots three days ago, and that night had a dream that my feet hurt in them. They did.