September 2, 1997
My voice is the same, well, honestly I haven’t really listened to it, but it feels the same. I feel the same. Although today a little itchy (always itchy!), a little blurry, maybe too hungry, but the same. Oh, and the interested eye, the strictum of yesterday, the look to understand with intensity, a complete failure. I spent most of the day yesterday avoiding eyes actually. There is no way I wanted to invite anyone at all, in, and I did’t want to go to someone else. It wasn’t until D. came over, about five hours late!, I was able to sit down and look at someone. The funny thing was, I sat right square in front of her, she sat cross-legged on the bench and I actually sat on the floor, squatting, and told her everything. Everything meaning here is how I see it today. No way I’m going to put that all down now, here. That’s a one time deal. The eye contact was also done.
This morning I had a strange dream. I woke up missing my brother. I don’t know what to think. If I write him, he probably won’t write back so what’s the use? I’m so sick of people. How could I possibly introduce one more, even my brother. I’m depleted. I also know this idea of social capacity is a fantasy. It’s my job after all, the meet, the eyes, the hand shake and the lick.
I feel pretty good today.
