it is late. i have some rice cooking on the stove. i'm going to make it with saffron this time. enough beverages chilling in the refrigerator. enough? enough to get me through the night. i did it on sunday, and tuesday. unfortunately, since i haven't had my act together, im going to try and do it again. i have to. i just have 25 pages barring me from relative liberty. i want to finish a draft by nine am. i have exactly...well not exactly, i can't do the math...i have 10 hours give or take. then i could edit the rest of the day, i tell myself. i've been saying this since -48 hours. hmmm. why do i never write quickly till its absolutely the last minute? masochism? ahhhh.
all i have now is a footnote. a footnote. and no paper. thank god i've been thinking about this for weeks, but still. i should have done things differently. regret, it always gets me in the end. funny that the poems i'm writing about deal exactly with that.