Millie’s cooking vegetarian pot pies and occasionally muttering to herself. It smells fucking great in here. I’m sitting at the table with this dumb cool little expensive computer, fucking around with VoodooPad and feeling mildly nostalgic about it but not too much. I delivered mail today, and also successfully delivered a couple of casual conversational pleasantries on Route 2. The air is on; that always makes it more hypnogogic and timeless. It makes it seem as if the outside world is this teeming movie, and everyone I love is safe somewhere, doing that thing we all generally refer to as living, or even “having a life.” Even if it’s all a pleasant-smelling, garbage-filled illusion, I’m OK with that for now. (2016)