Home, again.

I’m back in Denver. It feels strange, but good, like driving fast in a car with all the windows down late at night. I don’t have a job, I’m living with my mom, and I haven’t written a word of anything creative in months. This is about the worst I’ve been.

I went for a run—the first—a few days ago, and I’m only now, today, not sore from it. My lungs burned. It felt like I’d accomplished something.

I’m staying up too late these days, and also getting too ambitious with my downloads; currently I’m trying to pull down the entire fourth season of The Office and it’s probably literally going to take five days to download. I did manage to acquire the Rosetta Stone software for both Japanese and Spanish (Latin America), and figured out how to run it so that my computer think I bought the software and I’ve inserted the disc. If I’d bought both programs it would have cost me about $1000. Another small but significant feeling of accomplishment. Yes, I’m a pirate. I’m too broke to consider any alternative.

Röyksopp is very good music for late nights, or at least good music for very late nights.

If I don’t get to sleep before the birds start chirping, I’m fucked.