....it's march

At least February is over...Elliot may have believed that April is cruel, but February flat out sucks.

My March depression gets less severe the older I get, but it hasn't gone away. I have basically done no real work for a week or better (although The Dishes finally got washed). It's too freakin' cold to have much ambition, although I saw a rondel of robins by the parking garage. Managed a twenty minute walk.

I freaked out when I realized that it has been 37 years tomorrow since my accident. Talked to Bill about it a bit, and about loneliness vs. solitude and about feeling cut off. He's one of my oldest friends and I think he understands me. And I am older than some of my student's parents.

I've been splurging on ebooks. Not spending much money, but it's not like I have time to read.

Looking at this, I find that I haven't learned much about writing gracefully. It's still just lists. Oh, to be a poet...

Watchmen opens on my birthday.