Day 15



Today is as lousy as Day 13 (January 10, 2006). This time I have an annoying throat irritation. I’m not myself again and I feel like a fool.



Day 16



It’s 2:30 p.m. . I’m using another ballpen. When will I stop using the word ballpen, which is really nonexistent in the dictionary? Whatever the reason, I don’t know but I do know it already exists. Sometimes it scares the wits out of me. Anyway it doesn’t make any difference to you (reader) if you want to know what I think. . . .



That’s literary suicide, as some critics may say—about pleasing-the-reader-advice. How can you, if you don’t know them at all? You only know yourself. You’re not even sure if you have readers. So it doesn’t make a difference if you please them or not. Freedom of expression—there’s a lot of that crap in writing, if you want to know the truth.



Day 17



The wife arrived around 11 a.m. . I wasn’t able to fetch her because the cellphone didn’t work. She’s a little bit angry but she’ll be okay in a few minutes. I told you that I’m a homebody, so I’m going to cook now for lunch.