meditations on a leather-bound journal, pt. ii

Listen. Someone came back and started looking around for the notebook. Or I think that's what it was. She walked up and looked at the spot it was sitting, smiled, and wandered off. I think she looked right at me as I was watching. She might have even winked.

I still haven't looked at it. I'd been wasting too much time in that rest area and I still had a trip to make. When I got back to Seattle there was so much going on it slipped my mind. It was added to my stack of books--Zarathustra, The Devil's Dictionary, Fear and Loathing. I haven't thought much of it, to be honest.

I slept in late today. It's been getting later and later in the mornings. And whenever I talk to people, I forget what I was going to say. It's not like I'm grasping at words, it's like I was never going to say it. We have lots of chili? Who cares?

And the dreams are getting worse. I feel like I stole that notebook.