Last night I went to sleep thinking about writing. I had a killer first sentence, but that of course is gone now that I'm fully awake and in front of a computer. I kept a dream journal for a while and I had it right next to my bed. It came in handy when one morning I awoke after dreaming about Eudora Welty, and that same morning, I read in the newspaper that she had died that previous night. I haven't had any freaky dreams since then, but maybe I just forget to write them down.

All that is there to talk about is the weather. It's frigid cold and I hate it. That's all I'm going to say about that. Hopefully tomorrow will warm up somewhat -or at least stay dry- for when the boy called M will come to visit. I want to take him to the 'cool' parts of Cleveland, but if the weather remains the same -that is, shitty ass fucking cold- then I doubt we'll be up for walking around town. At any rate, I'm pretty excited. Freezing temperatures be damned, we'll find a way to keep our poetic souls warmed and 'enamoured.'

So my brother just had his first salon haircut and it looks great. Now I am going to divulge a secret that he probably doesn't want people to know, but I want everyone to, because I think it's great. My brother is a metrosexual. I didn't think it would be possible, but there it is. He's a great dresser, he has hair products, he loves to shop, loves to dance ... the only thing is he doesn't keep a journal. That I know of.

But anyway, he and his girlfriend just left for her doctor's appointment. Before she left, she said, "I wish I could be like you and just stay at home..." making me feel like the biggest sloth in the world. It's quite the contrary, actually. I cleaned and did laundry yesterday and I'm doing more housework today. I don't just sit around and watch reruns of The Gauntlet on MTV and eat potato chips. But I must admit that it's quite disconcerting that this is what I think she thinks I do all day. What, should I be volunteering or working at the local Blimpie's, or reading the newspaper to the blind elderly? I don't like feeling like I have to justify my existence. I feel like people already know, on their own accord, that I am the biggest sloth in the world.