A photocopy of yesterday. Egg whites for breakfast, a work out, worked on the list of thins to do, grilled a chorizo for lunch, walked around for hours, giving in to my wardrobe lust. A plaid fedora, some socks, some retro gabardine and spandex pegged contrasting plaid slacks. Took full restraint to avoid the black snap cowboy shirt, french press, soccer ball, and new jeans. Still have not stumbled onto a good book shelf nor a Pimms. Total cost? Like 50 bucks. Soledad canceled our date via the internet, trying to postpone it until Friday, but still called out to me from across the street as I passed by. That I did not recognize her probably did not aide my quest. Teflon brain meets Spanish lessons, writers block continues. Words tend to fly out during happy times. Ive never been happier. Not sure what the deal is. Cant even write a journal, let alone work on the book. Tomorrow: Mom.