I have plenty of time to think while I spend most of my time laying on my back. I’ve studied every inch of my stippled ceiling. Sometimes I’ll sit up and think I’m o.k. and start walking just to find out the human body loves to play tricks on you. But then I’m already in the hall. My options are go back, go to the bathroom, come in here or go down the steps. There’s food down there. My schedule is as follows: go to the bathroom and do “stuff” and take the sorry ass pain meds they think help, then ooze down the steps one at a time bringing food back up to this room where I think some more. By now my back and legs feels like I been ran over and thrown into a fire. I’ll eat, looking out the window and think some more. That medicine is really good at clouding up my thoughts but I want to draw something. Anything. I thought simple things but not the alphabet this time, there’s an idea, though. I sat here and cut four pages into four sections. Small and simple.