I Am Mad, I Think. I Am

Julia's Vocabulary Was "chock-full" Of Strangely Archaic Words - "spiffing," "crumbs," "jeepers" - That Seemed To Have Originated In Some Prewar Girls' Annual Rather Than In Julia's Own Life. For Jackson, Words Were Functional, They Helped You Get To Places And Explain Things. For Julia, They Were Freighted With Inexplicable Emotion.

If They Would All Sleep All The Time She Wouldn't Mind Being Their Mother.

I Think About Death A Lot, I Really Do, Because I Can't Believe I Won't Exist. It's The Ego Isn't It? I Feel That I Should Retreat Into A Better Form Of Zen Buddhism Than This Kind Of Ego-dominated Thing. But I Don't Know, I Mean, I Want To Come Back As A Tree But I Suspect That It's Just Not Going To Happen, Is It?

When I'm Writing, My Neural Pathways Get Blocked. I Can't Read. I Can Barely Hold A Conversation Without Forgetting Words And Names. I Wish I Could Wear The Same Clothes And Eat The Same Food Each Day.

Sometimes It Was Harder To Change The Past Than It Was The Future.