Monday, September 17, 1990

I am so fucking tired it’s amazing. Me and Brenda had an argument last night, but it was my fault. I’ll write more about it later. Meanwhile, my lungs are killing me. I’m so congested that it’s scaring me to death.

I’m also a little nerved up about the fact that I’ll be visiting the good old GYN soon.

I’m downtown now. Brenda’s seeing her therapist who’s up above Johnson’s Bookstore. She has an appointment at the same time I do.

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