Me, Feeling. What A Concept.

It Was Always Hard Work To Push Through A Crowed Of Reporters With The Scent Of Blood In Their Nostrils. You Might Not Think So, Since On Camera They Appear To Be Brain-damaged Wimps With Severe Eating Disorders. But Put Them At A Police Barricade And A Miraculous Thing Happens...the Strength Comes From Some Mysterious Place-and Somehow, When There Is Gore On The Ground, These Anorexic Creatures Can Push Their Way Through Anything. Without Mussing Their Hair, Too.

I Stood Up. It Was All Too Much. I Could Not Even Meet My Own Expectations, And To Be Asked To Deal With All Theirs Too Was Suffocating.

And So As Much As I Can, I Care About Her, Dear Deborah. It's Probably Not Love, But I Would Rather She Were Happy.

I Waved To Everybody. Some Of Them Even Waved Back. They Knew Me, Had Seen Me Go By Before, Always Cheerful, A Big Hello For Everybody. He Was Such A Nice Man. Very Friendly. I Can’t Believe He Did Those Horrible Things . . .

For The First Time I Could Remember, I Felt Weak, Woozy And Stupid— Like A Human-being. Like A Very Small And Helpless Human-being.