January 4, 2021

Clear cold blue day. I missed most of the day conquering an onslaught of phlebitis, but conquer it I did, and continue with what had been planned. This time the tell was exhaustion almost instantaneous and almost total. I realize in time the cause of illness to which there is no cause. 

Amy brought celery soup. 

Random thoughts arrow through the brain. Harvard Place in Syracuse. I think of the kid who picked me up in Fifield’s Grocery, who collected pre-Columbian art, and how we fucked under a stone statue of some god fucking. He was my first Hispanic. Maybe that’s why I remember him. Or the stone god. 

Anne and her two kids, Hailey and Chris, with whom we lived on Harvard Place. 

The scissors man. The peddler with the donkey cart. So long ago

Sniveling PR, who crept around the house, hugging the walls  like a frightened rat. He wanted me to think it was a response to my aggressive nature. It was a response to his own evil which only he, at that time, knew about. Is he the person I have hated longest? So long ago. When I think of the people upon whom my hatred has settled, I realize that not one of these hatreds was spontaneous; all came after I learned that they hated me first. By that admission most designs and subterfuges stand revealed.  

Smell on my fingers of roasted duck, which I have been tearing apart and eating bit by bit.