Yesterday I drove Antonio to Indianapolis to get fingerprinted. It was the last possible day he could have it done. We had to go to the library to have another paper forwarded to us.
I argued yesterday with people on Facebook, progressives who continue to complain about liberals.
"You were duped by really smart Russian operatives to waste all of your time spreading viral hatred for Hillary Clinton and it worked."
I dreamed last night about Lee, who was trying to help me write a paper on the history of Dada for my graduate studies class. It was due and I hadn't started. I couldn't find my books.
This morning Honey and I walked our usual two miles through the park before dawn.
Plans are for playing poker on Thursday, the night before I leave.
There is no order to these notes. It is not poetry.
I cannot reveal the people I see in secret by candlelight, so how can I ever tell the truth?
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