Tomorrow’s the final day of this book deadline. Feeling terribly lonely and also good about people today. Saturday night in America. You can hear the parties in the neighborhood from where I sit—10:30pm, about to get back to edits after a day away from it. There’s a punk band playing some houseparty out there in the darkness of the palm trees and the rooftops, somewhere between here and the sea. They’re covering a Doors song and they sound like shit and I’m happy they exist. I hope this book finds its place in many hearts out there. I’m trying very hard.
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