Day 14: Lasagna night turned out well. After dinner, I switched gears and tried to write a verse, but my head wasn’t in the game:
Dependence and submission,
syringes and meds,
biopsies and breathing tests.
The torture of healthy cells,
the loss of penance,
hunger and survival.
Words strung together. Ideas for dialogue. I don’t know, but I’ll post it here for posterity.
I kept thinking of home. I missed Joe so much. Finished rewriting the longest chapter in the first part of the novel. Onwards.
Day 15: The day was productive. I finished four out of the five sections of the novel, and tacked the concentric circles around the door frame, a visual representation of what I’ve done and a reminder that I still had much work to do. I monitored Facebook throughout the afternoon, and communicated with friends in the Boston area. I watched a video of the bombing, then sat alone in my studio until 4AM. I thought, “Every New Yorker must be feeling this way.”