6:00am: read liveblog from beginning while driving full circle around the Baltimore-Washington beltway. Tired, physically. Inner monologue is whining things like ‘this is easy for other people, other people just do things, other people would’ve had a folder and a stapler by now.’ Replaying memories of Sam Pink from a few days ago: somewhere in Brooklyn, looking for my car. Talking about how it’s stupid when people freak out when they’re late and already on the way to the destination, so there’s nothing to do but wait to arrive—which is relaxing, and feels kind of special. Me saying ‘wish I had a voodoo grandma,’ him saying something indicating he understood, or at least didn’t want to stop talking. Seeing him in ‘distractingly free of associations shirt’ and noticing the color of his eyes for maybe the first time before the Housing Works reading, thinking ‘what do I say,’ doing some kind of brief physical greeting with him and feeling wetness on my face, but not near parts that normally become wet. Eyes looked gray, then more brown. I don’t notice eyes unless it looks like someone is behind them, controlling where they look. Sam has eyes like that. Wonder if he’s reading this. Seems 15-60% likely. The sky is dark and morning commute cars are on the road. I never assume people like me are on the road. Lost wandering shitheads. Wish there was a Grindr-like iPhone app for lost wandering shitheads, so you could locate others. I probably wouldn’t use it.

6:14am: removed foot from gas pedal ‘for fun.’ Nearing 24-hour grocery store and house where I lived, ages 10-22. At stoplight heard birds tweeting stereotypically. Still dark outside. Large bald man with reflective tape on his back is walking on shoulder of road.

6:20am: braked to let truck merge in front of me, feeling a familiar pang of loss/envy/regret. Like, ‘there goes the life of adventure and financial and temporary existential certainty I was too much of a drifting loser to attain.’ Feel like truck drivers know this about me and can sense waves of inefficiency evaporating through my roof. I thought I wanted to drive trucks. I have a Class-A commercial driver’s license. At my first and only interview drugs showed in my pee test and I didn’t have an excuse and I got scared and gave up. There. I said it. Unsure if I’ll drive trucks in the future. Maybe I haven’t failed completely yet. I don’t know what I want. Life is so long. I just want to be okay. Feel close to crying now, in car parked in grocery store parking lot. Thinking about how to type location replaced urge to cry. Car parked near me has had its headlights on this entire time. Achy body. Okay. Going inside store.