Dear Allison,

It was so satisfying and gratifying to see you today. I needed a friend. Please thank Forest for his attention. I appreciate that it took him away from his duties as security personnel. I hope that no audacious felines or mail persons assaulted his domain during that time. It can be taxing to keep the riff raff at bay. Please give Forest a bone or treat for his dutiful service.

I have been thinking on and off about “what I want to write about.” You know, for my magnum opus, when I am finally done with the nonsense and just sit down and do it. What would it even be? The obvious choice is a memoir, but I need to read some, and I don’t read a lot of memoirs to be honest. I don’t read a lot these days. I feel full to the brim with words right now, really. Most of the words I read are an assault to my system, and it is already assaulted enough. It is hard to find some things to “escape into” because of my heightened cynicism. And I don’t want to read about some young boy or girl in a foreign land being abused and exploited. I understand that happens and is awful, but that will only add to the overflow of words I can't do anything about. Anyway. I also don’t want to write some tell-all really and hurt a lot of people and cause a haunting. I probably will do some of that anyway because people get hurt by unusual things sometimes, and art is meant to provoke. I also sometimes say upsetting things without realising that they would be upsetting. There is no way I can open my mouth without getting a lecture from some quarter. This is why I try to stay silent on a lot of things most of the time. There is no point. Other than my own sanity and health, I guess. Eh, ever have i been the whetstone for others to sharpen themselves against.

I need to do strength exercises, and I hate exercise. A LOT.

I am fretful. I would like to know peace, but something in me is always dissatisfied or uncomfortable…always grasping…ever striving. It is admirable in a way, from an organism point of view. LIFE. Like kudzu or a dandelion growing in a crack in the asphalt. Because I have been learning about all of my neighborhood plants and things, I see this type of activity all the time, and it is never tiresome. I always assume this is the abandoned, non-verbal infant. I understand that I was not actually “abandoned,” but Baby #69 would not have understood the particulars of family law in North Carolina. You would need to wait until I was at least five. So my body would have felt abandoned, not held to a bosom. (Yes, I said “bosom.” It is a perfectly acceptable word. You are just immature.) So the grasping feeling…”where are you?” A small hand reaching into space.

Focus Dog says my time is up, and I need to feed him donuts. My real dog has gone back to sleep because she has given up on my ever caring for her again. Sad face Ms. B. :-( We both need a walk in the fresh air to clear the cobwebs. Ironically, we walk through a great many cobwebs these days as the spiders amp up their activity in time for spooky Samhain. But better cobwebs on my clothes than cobwebs in my brain. You know, if you’re choosing. I urge you to take time to do the same with Forest on this beautimous, fall day. One thing about storms that I have always loved is that, when they have passed, the air is so clear and crisp and blue as it rarely is any other time. The dust and soot and other debris have been cleaned out and the air smells of fresh laundry and ozone. It is one of the bittersweet joys of life and humbles us with its gravity and sincerity. Just its realness. And we are one with this Big Thing. Awe-some.

I love you for always—

Case Study #69