I have it now. Midnight Picnic, the short novel (it was a "novella," but now it's pretty clearly a novel) that I've been writing in an episodic and fragmented fashion since last summer is about 75% finished. And this afternoon I understood how to end it. Or, rather, how to get there, because I've known for a long time how it would conclude.
At home today. I didn't go to the office. A few random errands to take care of, but mostly writing, and I had a feeling last night would be a long one. It was. Attended some parties for a massive coffee table book called Photo by Sammy Davis Jr., including one at a place with gold skulls all over the walls. Slept around 5 a.m., woke early. My dad is coming to the city.