Today was the most challenging writing day of my life. Ate some bad bread on Sunday, and my throat closed up an hour later. Same happened to my children, and my ex-wife, and everyone else that ate the bread.
This made last night hard. Up on the hour, with phlegm, and coughing. Really fucked me up to where I just wished to rest and stay in bed all day. I should have, but duty calls.
Can’t avoid it. I have a promise to hold with my children. I do this for them. So they know I will never give up on them. Even if I’m way off, I’ll get the pages done.
All last night I was coughing up horrible tar, having giving up smoking a pipe after 3+ years of smoking, I decided that it was killing me, which is true. I need to be around for my children and I couldn’t offer a laugh without coughing up tar. Not good.
So I gave up smoking, and Mexico City got hit with torrential downpours afterward, to where I needed to converse in the rain with my neighbors, whose apartments were being flooded, and this made …