Hard to say if the novel at hand is going well, necessarily, and, having typed such a small portion of what’s written, it’s hard to tell if I’m even halfway through, or maybe a little farther, but I’m getting my words down each day, the pages are piling up, I think there’s an end in sight.

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Woke up at 6 a.m. today and walked the dog and then took my notebook across the street for a colada ($1.50) and tostada ($1.50) and in so doing burned the very last of my cash. My final three dollars. Checking account was overdrafted at the gas pump. My second employer hasn’t paid me in a long time. Things are tight.

But I get a few hundred dollars at midnight from the college and, after paying off some debts, should be set for the next couple weeks. I’ll be able to go to a bar for the first time in a long time.

Part of the reason I’m going so hard at the novel is cuzza the money situation. I realize it’s a bit of a delusion to act as though anything’s gonna change right away if I get this novel out the door, but it keeps me motivated.

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Been checking Submittable obsessively to see if the Erich von Stroheim essay I submitted to BW/DR has been accepted or rejected. It’s been 21 days, longer than they’ve ever taken to reject one of my submissions. Maybe that’s a good sign? Like I’m surviving a process of elimination?

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Traded a couple texts with Reason this evening. She got a cold on Tuesday and already feels better. Looks like we might be able to swing a quick get-together on Sunday. She’s gotta prep for a mid-term on Monday and can’t be out for long. I’ve gotta watch movies and work on the novel and pound a few hours of freelance work. So the arrangement is fine.

Wish I had a better read on her interest. But this works fine for now.

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Today in the breakroom I was eating pizza and one of our student assistant told me in a confrontational tone that I intimidate her, which seemed kind of ironic, like putting your finger in the boogeyman’s face and scolding him for freaking you out, but I thought it was cool, a strong sign for a 21-year-old, because that confrontational tone had a Henry Miller vibe of like, “You’re creating a difficult feeling for me, and I’m gonna use it as an occasion to investigate both of us.” A person who stares shit down. She wants to be a writer and I guess she’ll be a good one if she keeps doing that.

Anyway. She said I’m very witty and told me in a very circuitous way that she wants to be like me (in that respect), which was very nice, but she then tempered the compliment by saying that she tells her boyfriend about me and her boyfriend says I sound insecure.

Y’take the raisins with the nuts, I guess.