i rediscovered a childhood habit -- i used to leave a bookmark in every book i owned

it's one of those nights, when I can't distract myself to sleep -- or don't want to, I've never really analysed it yet -- so now you have to endure my uninhibited need to share, in the depths of the early morning

accompanying all the letters i would write, the ones that float into and out of my head when I can't sleep, was the the tangent thought on my wallet
-- i bought it in Metz and still use it, something to do with the one centieme piece that's been a permanent companion since Toulouse, but it struck me bizarre this night how though i inaugurated my wallet with colorful euro bills and the convenience weight of one and two euro pieces, it's as if a dream now -- the bland uniformity of american dollars mocking the vibrant tomato red of my childish wallet -- was it really over a year since i handed over a blue twenty to pay for groceries

blame the vastness of night, the type which Anne Morrow Lindbergh best describes its effects -- i'll regret your reading this tomorrow, but not enough to actually take this post down: tough luck for you