The morning with its gray sky and sharp cool wind could be mistaken for an autumn dawn instead of one in the midst of the dogs days. Idly recalling my life while I drink coffee and smoke a cigarette is like writing--a central challenge is what to put in and what to leave out. My memory is a wild and untamed beast. I must discipline it.
I'll be on the road soon. I must slap my memory around most then to keep it in line with the image I have of myself.