There are good days and there are bad days.
Regained some strength over night.
Baby Schubert congratulates me on the decision to eat.
Fuck you baby face!
Today is about friends.
This is a very silent conversation.
Trying to figure out what they are digging for.
The 3-pager manifesto plays a minor role, which I don’t really get.
I had mentioned earlier that the letter was multiplied and shared.
They must want to know who has a copy or if it is being distributed?!
Despite the fact that I had brushed off earlier attempts, I can’t believe that this is it.
My standard response today.
Baby Schubert stays calm as always.
There is not a lot of writing going on today.
“Your father will visit you next week.”
“How are they?”
Emotions creeping in.
I feel horrible for what I am putting them through.
Wondering how they are coping - at least they have each other.
“What about my mother?”
“Only one visitor.”
“Once a month?”
“Yes, 1/2 hour.”
Tight-lipped rest of the session.
One of the few things I will never get used to: someone taking a dump next to you.
As there is not even the slightest draft through the cells we try hard to avoid it around the meals.
Thinking about my folks well into the night keeps my mind off of it - and the songs that I play in my head.
Alan Parsons Project “Old and Wise”.
Makes me cry.