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January 2nd, 1973
Nancy (whose picture I just spoke with on the back of the toilet)
: I am still unsettled
My life is still unsettled– disorderly– tempestuous and proceeding absolutely no logical course.
At its worse, it structures into odd and various forms of alienation. At its best orgiastic endearment.
Headlong, headlong. I encounter most things headlong– sometimes (rarely) head-on.
My sexual fantasies, it seems, have failed me. Faded. Like a book read long ago whose scenes are only vague images now.
I have nothing to replace my current hollows. I live mostly alone.
I’m given to whining and melancholy.
God knows why.