"Walking through the garment center, Cully felt disgust at the dirtiness of the city and the pinched, haggard faces walking its streets. Hand trucks, loaded with brightly colored cotton dresses gallowed from metal racks, were being pushed by black men or old-timers with the seamed red faces of alcoholics. They pushed the hand trucks through the streets like cowboys, stopping traffic, almost knocking down pedestrians. Like sand and tumbleweed of a desert, the garbage of discarded newspapers, remnants of food, empty pop bottles caught in the truck wheels, washed over their shoes and trouser cuffs. The sidewalks were so clogged with people you could hardly breathe, even in the open air. The buildings looked cancerous, grey tumors rising to the sky."

Fuck. That's good. I like it, at least. Will I ever be able to write like that? It's a selection from Fools Die by Mario Puzo, the author of The Godfather. I read that paragraph last night and just thought about how vivid of a scene it was.

My writing is going downhill. I haven't been in a real class since December and I sure as hell haven't been writing since then. My story is stillborn at 5200 words. I have ideas--I just lack motivation. Maybe I'll write this weekend. Maybe I won't.

Either way, I'm glad it's Friday.