Laying in bed at home. The result of a bad KFC. Too tired to sleep - 3 hours sleep night before last - about 4-5 last night, broken up into chunks between drowsy dashes to the bathroom. Reading Kerouac - drugs, suicide, bop and Buddhism. Poetry unleashed by a master. Another reader comes out of the closet - "I'm part time, so you won't know me" - brings forth images of the full time staff with their heads in the clouds, too important to notice the part timers scurrying round our feet - is that how we are perceived? I hope not. Is that how I am perceived? Probably. Too aloof for my own good. Don't want to mix because the risk of pain is greater. Since when have I shied away from pain? Self castigation. My own worst enemy.
Thursday 2 September 1999
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