a fellow i knew long ago was here from berlin and i hid in my cave. we once gallavanted around chicago making movies and los angeles searching for frank gehry, and berlin, making crazy installations in an old nazi bomb factory. he went on to great industry art and accomplishment as an architect, and i went (circuitously and literally) to the dogs. he used to say pets were pathetic replacements for humans. i don't expect to plumb my eccentricity here (and other people's eccentrities, like dreams, are dead boring) but i do want to talk more to the diary, and i refrain too much. there's a lot i censor from embarrassment, a lot i avoid in life, a lot of sequestraion and shame, and once in a while there's something i need to talk about, however boring or fuzzy or pretentiously abstruse (abstruse?is that a word?) anyway i think i'd be just a sad old former lord of leisure to will, and i wanted to avoid the reflection of that in his eyes and speech. and the dogs mean more and i want to protect myself from as much indifference as possible.

night nurse hilde and godardian patient comet.