Thursday, 1 February 1996

Whoops—here it is Thursday already and I’m in the middle of my account of Sundance week, and I’m hopelessly lost, behind and forgetting everything. I’m an idiot for not writing each day as it went along—I, as much as anyone should know better. I figure I can redeem myself by writing a coherent and artful account of the entire experience—but I’d better include notes here so that I remember a good portion of it. I’ll do that…

But first—time for my pen to run out. Does that signify anything, I wonder? Though I do have a fine array of pens—actually, this one sucks too—yeah fuck it—oh no—this one won’t write either—a lot of these pens, they look nice, but when it comes down to writing, forget it!

Maybe it’s the cold—nothing will write—it’s insane—I’m sick of it—maybe it’s me—anyway. (Doug just called from Legal NW—my temp agency. I got a job for tomorrow, ending, at least, in my short-term mind, my $ problems. Time problems are ongoing—so what the hell!)

Anyway, I was going to say—that I’m concerned with the very nature of this project—and I have to find a way to make it work, to make it worthwhile for me to write—and for people to read.