not getting outside as much as would probably make me feel good. it was so pretty outside today and i took so long to put what i thought would be the right clothes on to sit on the balcony where it’s beautiful but sf cold that it got cloudy guess i missed it. last few days i have written my candidate statement for work, a proposal for fellowship applications and painful revisions on essay i feel now like i’m writing not to think about anything but to do what i said i’d do which i might have done more to get to do something with some writers i like than for the thing itself which is a lousy feeling. it’s somewhere in the mix of being lonely but picky about the company and sucking up. but either way it’s not about the writing and it’s not even that i have anything important to add, just things some people might want. that’s a big difference. it’s still only about the writing when it’s fiction. i wonder what–
oh wow the sun came back better get out there!