Today is Cinco de Mayo. Today is Mifflin. Today I trudged to work and balanced on buses all morning to get home before midday.

I tuned out the images of mongrels and whores, both wearing bright neon green and pink tank tops. Thirties of Keystone and Hamm's - names I can't wait to forget - hauled over shoulders and pulled into the screaming river's flow. I've got a six pack of nice beer - I'll get through a few. My windows are open and the fresh air outside struggles to break through the wall of muggy fog that stagnates my apartment.

Today is okay, but all I want to do is write.