Timeline

The timeline of my life is littered with unfinished books.

That line--or something similar, if simper-- struck me as I was walking to the car with cardboard boxes tonight. I think it's going to be the beginning of something; personal essay, maybe, about not finishing books.

Last night here. Wynn's helping. Lots of boxes, lots of stuff. Wondering how much of it I should just chunk.

Smoked a bit; it feels better to medicate, though I don't exactly feel any sharper...it took Wynn and I about five minutes to get out of the car at the liquor store. Watched Wynn fumble with the handle, snapping it back and forth until he finally got the door open, and then bounced back and forth myself between walking towards POpaTop, realizing that the window was still open, rolling it up, heading back towards the store confidently--forgetting to lock the door, returning, opening the door, locking it, shutting it, continuing.

Mmm. Pot.