Restlessness, difficulty falling asleep. A sudden, intense interest in parlor tricks and tidying. Obsessions: avocados – an intense desire for avocados. I can eat when I’m dead. An interest in the trappings of the supernatural, that is mostly a put on. Not so much the ghosts, I am too aware of the disorder of the mind. She bought me a pill-box, once. He said to me the other day, he said — “You know what I love about you, Angie?” “What?” “You love shoes as much as I do.” “Actually, I think you love shoes more than me. I think you love shoes the way I did five years ago.” Cucumbers? High fever? Low fever? You give me fever Frome a girl in karaoke — Plump, creamy, waited all night to sing, Voice like a molten coal. He has bronchitis, I think. We sit and take notes, make lists. This was the summer of Sangria and cards, the summer I got a record player and played my old sounds again, the summer I stopped eating, the summer of schizophrenia, engagements, and love. Love, in fact. Love, again. Desire for straightening, for order. She said, “Buy a thermometer.” She said, “The font should be Ariel Bold.” The font should be Helvetica. The sadness of the discontinued font, The darkness of the discontinued font. I can eat when I’m dead.