Monday night, Tuesday morn

Fear, fear, fear and rage. My doctor says their chemical make-up is very similar. I feel that one can't have one without the other--but I'm the patient not the doctor. That distinction seems obvious but for millions it's not. It took me seven years to learn to take my medication daily. I knew what was best for me. Ha. Ha.
Rage. I wrote two wild and surly Emails to my woman friend She replied with her usual cool intelligence. And love. Later I reply that I take full responsibility for my illness and my humaness. Perhaps overstated. I am always the self blamer. The conventional boy, girl relationship is not, or will it ever be us. So, I tell myself live with it. But it is hard.

Up early as usual--it is warmer than normal day. I walk to our garden and note the growth of the daffodils..they are coming along. The MTV video screen runs a number of hilarious spoofs. I feel at home. Back for breakfast I greet my homeless friend Jimmy, the one with the most jingle-jangle walk. I ask him if he needs money and he says no. He always trys to repay my loans but I refuse. Rarely does he ask. In the dining room I sit with Harry, another homeless guy, giving him my bread and milk.n There is more love in this SRO than I have ever known. Nobody stinks this morning except maybe me. I go shower.