Seven thirty.

Things make a lot more sense now, the whole panorama of my life. It’s partly cloudy again this morning. I went on Amazon to price the Hamilton edition of Plato just for fun. The man where it all began. Once I found the book at St Vinnie’s and bought it for two bucks, later giving it away to an alcohol and drug counselor. She lost it and didn’t seem to care at all. It’s amazing what I can remember and how everything is falling into place. I even know now why graduating from college was so difficult for me, and the return to the real world. My experience in high school had been such torture in terms of the social life, but today I can think on it less painfully… And then there was therapy with the psychologist when I was still a student that went nowhere. Stuff about being assertive, etc etc. He was struck by my intelligence. But the city of Eugene is very narrow and limited for a person like me. Still, I can no longer keep up my defenses. It’s time to just be myself… Gloria will be here in ten minutes.


It looks like it might rain. I think I’ve found my old Dell computer, put away in a closet next to the front door. I won’t fire it up for at least a while. The screen of BS has been cleared almost totally from my mind. I was wrong; the sun is coming out. And Gloria discovered my copy of On the Beach, for which I’d looked a long time without success. What would you do with the rest of your life in the event of nuclear war, something you’d always wanted to do? Also the poem by Sara Teasdale occurs to me:

And for a breath of ecstasy,

Give all you have ever been, or could be. 

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