January 4, 2015

Deep rain on the roof. Odd feeling– as though I were out of breath, though I’m not actually out of breath, as though I were tired, but I’m not actually tired. I thought I was ill yesterday, but I had forgotten the Nyquil the night before, which always makes me draggy and sleepy the next day. Tremendous amount of writing, which still unfolds before me without a visible breach of imagination approaching. I have written more and published less than anyone in history. Checked to see that Amadeus conflicts with The Mermaid in Carrboro, of course.