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October 22, 2020
Running 6-1/2 miles directly into cold, hard, face-slapping, hair-whipping, hand-reddening (why did I leave home without gloves?) wind along the Hudson was a more pleasant sensation than this hair-pulling, heart-racing, stomach-churning motherfucking anxiety. I need this over, damn it. I'm hopeful about the results, and I don't believe in "jinxes", so I've said it aloud.

Hey, if I could "manifest" meeting Linda Rodin this morning by thinking about her about half an hour beforehand, and have that go as well as it did, who's to say?

Still, I don't want to say it TOO loud(ly). Oy. Enough. Come on, man.

(written 11/3)