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August 11th, 1979
Dog Days: the malaise of surviving the suffocation of Washington in August. Lack of energy. Lack of interest. Sick of my own whining.
I have a short concentration span. I learn very quickly; I consume and digest new experience rabidly and immediately am ready for something else. I wake in the mornings now ready for something else. There is nothing else: grey haze hanging over the city, steaming streets and dank subways with half crazy people, a job I’ve been doing for over three years, and time like dead leaves piling around my feet: a decade in the same city. I long to be excited.
Larry is bored.