This is the time piece I mentioned in the piece about the bus, was it two days ago now, or last year? Recently, let's say. More recently still -- i.e., today -- I found a watch store along what is fast becoming my regular route, and they not only knew which battery it needed, but a) had one, and b) installed it for me, which is a lot harder than it sounds, requiring some specialized tool. I had tried biting it open, but to no avail. So now I have the time to go along with a whole stack of bus schedules I picked up yesterday.

My life is still in disarray, I have no home, no direction toward one, but... 'twas ever thus. I stand out half naked under the stars here, next to the parking lot, unafraid of the sky. This is either an old madness or a new freedom. I am reading a book about Wilfred Bion, and it turns out he was an alien, very much the Outsider, but not Melanie Klein's, as I said before. Evidently, though, this is not common knowledge. I can prove it too. Right now, you're probably saying: "Who the fuck is Wilfred Bion? What's he on about now?" Quod erat demonstrandum, dude. And yes anyway, as Winnicott said (I learned last night) -- and there seems no better line to emblazon on my Coat of Alms -- "We are poor indeed if we are only sane."