And that one story, which he’s told himself in this way so many times, seemed to him an already printed book, one that was very easy to express mentally but very difficult to write with the letters of the alphabet necessary for thought to be made concrete and visible.

—Antonio Tabucchi (trans. Martha Cooley and Antonio Romano), in Jhumpa Lahiri, ed., The Penguin Book of Italian Short Stories, 53.

Up for a while around 5:30; up for real at 9.
Wrote about 11-1.
Called dad.
Therapy.
Read 30 p. Fanon and a story from the Italian anthology, quoted above. Contemporary (post-2008, I guess the anthology isn’t chronological), not unlike Cortazar in its breathlessness.
Discussed Bree’s letter.
A few p. of Kovac, didn’t get far. Read 25 p. Sharp in bed.

I’ve been listening to late-period R.E.M. that I didn’t pay attention to at the time, a few songs/videos here and there. Uneven.