Then came the bad part of the day....

I really don't know, sometimes, I really don't. I should have known just going out on the streetcar to the hospital. One woman had a baby with such good lungs, it was unnerving. Screaming, for some reason.

And this Ditz of an older woman says, 'I know someone who says that is MUSIC to one's ears.'

I REALLY had to bite my fucking tongue till it nearly bled. And so wanted to yell, 'That is because the little tyke BROKE her fucking EARDRUMS!' Oh yes, it was on the tip of my tongue, and I gripped my seat and held it in. Seemingly I have a bit of self-control left....

Two seats up there was a kid about ten to twelve years old... with a waste-basket on his head. (No, am not making this up. He seemed to LIKE it that way, what the fuck do I know?) When he and his mother got off, he had it under his tee-shirt, and looked pregnant, as it had started to rain....

There are days.... sometimes I think I am in a Salvador Dali painting, I swear....

Because I did not understand any of it.

Or maybe I am dumb, or something....

So I got to the hospital, and Peter said he is going to lose two toes, the second and third. Oh, fucking swell, hey. It is going to look like Edward Scissorhands.

Or something. At least they aren't going to do anything more radical at the moment....

Twelve years ago, they were radical, believe me.

Just chop it off.

So... hokay, you go with what you get, you know?

Maybe I should start going around with a waste-basket over my head so I don't have to look at anything, I don't know.... Maybe the kid knew something I didn't.

Or look up Salvador Dali on Google, and look at melting clocks...

Have no idea, at this point....

Discouraging....