That's The Problem With Drinking, I Thought,

You Just Rebel Against Everything. How Are You Going To Survive? I Don't Know. I'm Already Tired.

It Was Too Much. The Comfortable People Made Comfortable Jokes About Weather And Things But I Sat Mostly Silent Saying A Word Or So When Necessary A Word Or So Trying To Hide From Them The Fact That I Was A Fool And Feeling Terrible And I Was Numb, Numb Again, Numb Again Again And Again, Numbness And Pain Swelling In Me.

I Can't Think Of Any Poet-recluses Outside Of One Dead Jeffers. [robinson Jeffers] The Rest Of Them Want To Slobber Over Each Other And Hug Each Other. It Appears To Me That I Am The Last Of The Poet-recluses.

The Less I Needed, The Better I Felt.

‎"she’ Mad But She’ Magic. There’ No Lie In Her Fire.