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Sunday, creeping toward classes again and I haven’t used my time well. Read very little, wasted a lot of time. Stayed sane though.

The flickerings of ego. Lately it’s easier for me to believe maybe people might want to hear what I have to say. Usually it’s a split confidence, but that’s changing a little.

Within three minutes Pete swings from, holding both my hands, “A woman with good fingernails – that’s all I’m looking for,” to “Hey, why don’t you go ask one of those guys out?” I very much wanted to say, Pete, I know you’re probably not intentionally being a bastard, but could you quit it anyway, please? Real talk is not possible in the store – can't explain anything.

edebroux put up a clipping across from the toilet, says “Try bobsledding. Try anything. Visit a country where you don't speak the language. Throw away your TV. Patent something. Call her.”

I have been commissioned to drive edebroux to church in the morning which I agreed to do since I am a good friend but which I still do not have to enjoy.

Nauseous from this letter from my mother which I got two days ago and it just occurred to me to read the thing. Says she found and listened to my original Eric Carmen tape, lord have mercy – “No wonder you were depressed. Them’s sad songs he sings.” What the HELL is that? She has no idea, never will, and is she making fun of me? She knows all the tricks. No one has ever been able to make me feel as low.

Joey joined the army. Dad’s in bed sick. Noah can’t sleep, needs pills every night. Why did she write this letter?

Phone in the other room just rang but this one didn’t - the new individual lines – means I won have to deal with Rosa anymore. that freak.

I drove through Concourse to see if the crane was there, in light of the dream, but it wasn’t – half the pond frozen over – do they fly more south than this, if this is where they normally live?

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