2003-07-13| 1:42 a.m.

I don't know how I'm getting by, I really don't. It's like I'm constantly running through a list of bills in my head, and when I come to a final total I think to myself that I must have forgot one, I can't actually be surviving (if constant poverty can be called surviving.) Theres this little scrap of paper I keep in my nightsand drawer with scrawls of green marker all over it, $278 here, $85 there, little notes to myself that say at the end of this I may actually have something left over. That's impossible! Why, they always ask me, why are you doing what you do. It's an addiction, I tell them. I'm giving up so much outside so that I can do what I want and what I love. But I don't regret a minute of it.