Wednesday

Burned my fingers on the stove last night. Never done that before.

Went to a different coffee shop than normal today. To read a friend’s script. Had to get out of the house.

There were hotter girls there, not that I care. I’ve been avoiding that place like the plague.

Playing Chet Baker: “Autumn in New York.” I don’t want it to end. It’s sixty-something degrees today and the leaves are changing color. A sentimental man’s day dream.

Told my friend I didn’t like the script. Wouldn’t have been able to do that years ago. Progress.

I think I’ll drive out to my favorite woods later.

The couch is full of my son’s stuffed animals. He’s at school and won’t be back til Sunday. He asked me if that was a long way away. I said “no” but meant “yes.”

Why do I still think about her everyday.

A slow, cool breeze is creeping through the window. My fingers have huge burn marks on them, but they are mostly numb now; it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to, but I wish it did.