I exist and that is enough


I’ve been buried in work. It is examine week at Pitt and I just ate a whole personal sized pizza.  Turned in a 21 page paper, went to the doctor, took a long nap. Now I’m writing about torture and I’m avoiding Microsoft Word. Tomorrow, at noon, the showdown is over. Doctor says I’m allergic to the sun. She gave me lotion for my skin. Doctor says my ankle is healing (it was the size of a grapefruit for a while). I wore heels last weekend anyway. The sun is out. I’m inside.

Walt Whitman hated Mexicans. That’s okay. I still love him.