There's this myth that keeping a secret is difficult, but often it's the only way to stay functioning. Am I brave in the face of scorn, or am I addicted to a fame complex? Probably neither and just imagining.

Here are some random bits for you, sweetness. Sweet. There's no need to cohere just yet.

I woke up to snow, and I've been watching it subsume New York City all day from my huge 9th floor windows. I can start at infinity and pull focus across the floating currents, detecting wind patterns. This wave slants down to the left. That zone floats straight across. The other movement angles up about twenty degrees. The speeds and directions keep changing, every minute, all day. It's better than a movie because it's unpredictable.

Your letter's finally going in the mail tomorrow. It's not finished (it would never be finished) but I xeroxed the poems and that makes enough. It doesn't have anything of what we talked about last night: "a delivery arrived from back in time". I'm okay with that.

On the train to work I get to know people. There's a pair of brothers in my car who are too loud. The older one likes to chat up pretty girls. Sometimes they find each other seats or kiss on the head; today they grunted and slapped like apes. I buried my nose in a free magazine. Reviews of records I'll never hear.

When I saw her for the first time in four months, it wasn't awkward, it was only fun, even after so much not speaking. She thanked me and told me I channelled her, which I'm way too flattered to believe. She said she doesn't know enough about you, just that you are great.

Here's a place for this, sure. My cousin was just in a car accident. He lost most of his legs and his brain is swollen. I wasn't close to him. Now I might never be. I didn't tell you because I didn't want to bring you down. You don't have to say anything. This isn't about me. We are all simply waiting.

And so what I was thinking about, from the time I left the house, was the way knowledge affects my day. The way continuity carried over colors events. It doesn't seem quite fair. And I think this is why I have been searching for the holy moment, to put my self into the present because I'm running from the past. This was already my point. But then.

My friend calls to offer me a golden ticket tonight. I've been waiting for this movie all year and suddenly instead of two weeks in front of me I've got four hours. How am I always so goddamn lucky?

And I know somewhere I must be shallow and immature, that all my issues with you and Jaime and my job and all the evils of the world are being pushed away, because I just don't want to think about it, but now I'm painted the other extreme. Giddy during nothing.

Seth and I walk outside and everything's white. Soft and crunchy and beautiful. For a while.