"work was my dominant thought, not love-- not the pain which impels me to write this even while i don't want to, the pain which won't be eased by the writing of this but heightened, but which will be redeemed, and if only it were a dignified pain and could be placed somewhere other than in this black gutter of shame and loss and noisemaking folly in the night and poor sweat on my brow--"
i'm dreaming of the west coast again. pacific heights inn, beat alleys, onceloved and manic... fuck this scene anyway.
my heart just isn't in it anymore.
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