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Sunday 1/9/22

* More work on one of the book proposals. It's been a lot of work. Ended up at 6500 words. It's done-done now.

* Today marks 2016 days, or 288 weeks, without a drink.

* Went to a hockey game yesterday for the first time in a while--Boston College against UConn out in Chestnut Hill, but mostly I sat in the stands reading a narrative from 1830 by a Revolutionary War soldier so that I can write an essay about it and hopefully sell it for July.

* I looked at the Beatles pages. They need a lot of focused, hard work. A lot of it is a mess. I have to really bear down.

* Ran 3000 stairs. That's at least 3000 stairs for ten days in a row. It's halftime of the Patriots now. I'm heading back out to read some more at the cafe. Tired. Haven't eaten in twenty-four hours. I just go.

* A text: "I was thinking about you today. All the people you've known. All the people I've known. And we're still standing as friends. Who haven't seen each other in more than fifteen years. And we're still friends and it's just a given, when very little is, and certainly not relationships. I shouldn't take that for granted. I'm sorry if it seems like I do. True, sometimes I liken it to trying to be friends with a monkey, with no mental discipline, but I am your friend. Always know that."

* Anyway. These are the days of hell that no one else could endure that you will look back on later when you think, "I did it, motherfucker." Sound the mantra: matchless art, total focus, no mercy when we get there. Because you are getting there.


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