First, everything is wrong, sort of.

Second, I'm starting to feel sort of great about things.

Sometimes the people upstairs sound like ponies, trotting back and forth across the room. It makes me wonder what kind of shoes they're wearing. I stay up all night because the world is a bad influence on me, and I just keep hanging around it, hoping to be badly influenced. God, I'm boring, all of this, "I didn't sleep, I didn't sleep," over and over. You aren't supposed to say you're boring, because of the possibility that no one has noticed, or the possibility that there's some uncertainty. You don't want to convince people, in case there's some doubt left.

I caught a cold from the Captain. I think I caught it as much from her description of her symptoms as I did from her germs. It's putting me back onto tea, though I'd sort of stopped drinking it. I'm weaning myself off of everything, it seems, and my body is confused. It can't tell the time anymore. It can't remember that it's wearing contact lenses and puts on glasses, wondering why it can't see.

On Saturday night at about three-thirty in the morning I was standing in the street looking at the moon. The clouds kept covering and uncovering it, like in a horror movie right when a wolf howls. Someone said, "Wait, where's Mars? It's supposed to be closer than it's been in 5000 years, it's supposed to be as close as the moon." Is that true? Or are crazy people with crazy stories drawn to me in the middle of the night? The weatherman said, "cloudy all week," so when am I supposed to go out looking for Mars?

I feel that in a small way things are getting on track, but I'm a bit worried. Not worried enough, I suppose. My head is all dreams, and I don't know how to be practical the way a person needs to to be secure. I guess these next few months are when it all either comes together or I find out for sure that all the choices I've made (or maybe the choices I've been busy not making) are mistakes. It will be fall soon, and then winter, and by then maybe I'll know where I am. Somewhere good, I think.

p.s. He was reading from Don Quixote again last night, and I still don't know why, but it's still a good voice for being half asleep through.