I've Subsequently Become Conscious Of Making Memories.

Some People Just Make Me Feel Mentally Endangered. Whatever Dark Stuff Is Going On In Their Head, It's Coming At Me And I Need To Escape.

I Guess What I Find So Interesting About Memory, And Its Role In A Person's Identity, Is How The Attempt To Achieve Accuracy Requires You To Remove Yourself From Your Life In An Authorial Manner.

Like Semmering Academy, The Grove School Was A Gothic Pile Of Bricks Run By 1950s-era Chalk Drones, Which Maintained Its Cultural Viability By Perpetuating A Weirdly Seductive Anxiety Throughout Its Community. Mary Herself Was A Victim Of The Seduction; Despite The Trying And Repetitive Emotional Requirements Of Her Job, She Remained Eternally Fascinated By The Wicker-thin Girls And Their Wicker-thin Mothers, All Of Them Favoring Dark Wool Skirts And Macintoshes And Unreadably Far-away Expressions; If She Squinted, They Could Have Emerged Intact From Any Of The Last Seven Decades.

The Twisty Nature Of Psychic Attack - Are You Being Attacked, Or Did You Bring This Attack On Yourself? - Speaks To Me Of An American Cultural Paradox We All Grapple With. There's The Rampant Litigiousness Of Our Society, And The Desire To Blame Others For Our Misfortunes.

To Believe You're Being Psychically Attacked Gives You An Understanding Of Your Illness That No Western Doctor Can Provide; This Can Be Reassuring When You've Exhausted The Western Doctor Tool Kit, And The Doctors Are Sending You To Acupuncturists For Pain Relief.