Stay close to anything that makes you glad you are alive.
Can I be blamed for wanting a real body, to put my arms around? Without it I too am disembodied. I can listen to my own heartbeat against the bedsprings…but there’s something dead about it, something deserted.
No one calls and after a while you feel pleased with how long it has been since the last time you thought about how long it had been since somebody called. You can’t remember when you last remembered. You must really be good at living like this. And its just as well because when the phone rings by this time, even when it’s a wrong number, a hang-up or a telemarketer, you don’t want to speak to anyone. You’re in no fit state to speak to anyone. It’s not even a matter of sobriety. Even sober, you’re in no fit state to speak to anyone. You’re out of practice. When you do have to speak to someone, you have trouble. You have to practice the words and the tone of the small talk and it always sounds stilted. You’re either too vague or too focused or too polite. The person serving you looks at you strangely and you know you’ve done it badly. You can’t do it anymore.