The fridge purrs, and I might lie down, before bathing, etc. I’m remembering Max killing the neighbour’s cat on Wolfe street, in Auberge Madeleine. The poor woman who owned the cat, probably suffered too. f***ing Charlie, couldn't care less! To think I was in love with him, or rather, gave him my heart, because he’d had a terrible accident. I’d felt sorry for him, but I didn’t know what a sadist he is. I wonder how Catherine is today, if she is really Vanessa Marcil, or her twin. I remember St. George street, having to walk up it to the bus stop, and to Kingsgate mall, how Mark would push me to go up that hill to Broadway, while I was on risperadone, or clopixel. How Virginia tried to get me to run. How the ‘medication’ paralyzed my face so I couldn’t smile and how I would ride the 99 bus over and over again, with my face paralyzed.
The above is an excerpt from my ink diary. I’m almost finished my stash of beer, thank goodness, and will be soon bathing, brushing, painting, and walking. Jim Jim Falls is in my head, to nudge me on. I might eat first. Vegetable with dip. The sun is shining, but if I go for a walk at 6PM, it definitely won’t burn me. Okay, the beer is now finished, and I’m free of it. Maybe I’ll get a headache from withdrawal, but as long as I feel pretty good, despite a lingering rattling cough, I think I will get the basics done today.