sitting in the dry sunlight, lisa's making sleepbag sniffly noises on the floor and she has to get up and gone in a little while. never fall asleep in your bed with a pen in your hand. on reviewing my accounts, i spent $100 in my first week back. hmm. i have no sense of what that means. except that i said i wouldn't do it. oops. erm, ortlieb's and will's swim party yesterday in a car! unprecedented for me, i think. all the splendid festoons of a sad pennacht, the mechanization of partying. the more i talk, the more it seems i've already given up. i mean, i'm sorry! sorry sorry. action/reaction, for every apology given, isn't there some loyalty created somewhere else? and if so, who or what could i possibly be loyal to now? where exactly have i divested myself, and with how distracted of a mind? "thing is, you got to recognize"...thing is, you should have better things to do with your time. and some quoits, guess who...no one you shouldn't know:
"he's so terrible and he's so my sort of thing"
"all i can remember is peter always there, doing all sorts of wonderful things"