Day 28: Last Good Friday

Words written: 4,029, by the skin of my teeth
Swimming pools visited: 1

I wrote in my journal for a few hours today, painstakingly slow, and then typed the words in this evening, and it took forever and then, when I got the ends of the pages, I still have 600 more to write. It appears that there is now a section where this guy is writing letters to his girlfriend from Iraq. Again, what do I know about this experience? He's a guy who earlier in the story has killed his girlfriend, and the narrator is now living in the dead girl's house. It's either going to work or it's not, but I needed 600 more words, and so they became letters from him while he's stationed overseas.

Went with Ilse/Sunset to the pool today and didn't swim, but sat in a chair writing a bit and eavesdropping on a conversation between two golfers who were also there. They said absolutely nothing of note, except the one guy had his worst golf game in his life, which I guess means he didn't get a hole in one?

Ordering coffee at Left Hand. 

Always under my chair.

At the pool. 

Chasing Chap at sunset. 






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