March 7, 2017

Met K, who was thorough and gentle. He found a place on my back which is a “pool of inflammation.”  He didn’t know what to do about it; neither do I, but it gives me an image to work with.  Late lunch with A, who seems to be reconciled to his new life away from the Bright Lights. I am not reconciled to it on his behalf. We wondered if I should write something for him and T.

Alaska doesn’t want me and the Great Plains doesn’t want me. Plans for the summer are suddenly open.

Pretty much packed for Italy. Enthusiasm drained by bad days, but not replaced by dread, so that is well.

Chat with S in the dark of the morning.

Oh, once again into the darkness. I never walk there; I am always pushed. Let this be memorialized upon some ledger.