Four months later. I tried to access this blog a few times but someone changed the password. I'm in Bakersfield, I don't mind sayin'. I never went back to Los Angeles.
Well, just once, I did. I was going to settle things with Uncle Vick, at last. When I got to his house, there was no one there. The grass was overgrown in the front yard. No cars parked in the driveway. No lights. But, the furniture was inside. I looked through the kitchen window.
So, I came back to Bakersfield. This is my home now. I've started a new life. I work at a mental health free clinic. I'm the janitor. I live in a long-term residential hotel downtown.
I withdrew from the world. I withdrew from other people. They all make me tired. Everyone is selfish and everyone is clammoring for someone to pay attention to them. That's America. Land of the "Look at me!" and "More More More!"
That crap almost killed me. I did 200 situps today.
I don't know where Kwan, or Uncle Vick, or that fat kid, or anyone from last year is now.
I've got to go. I'm using the free clinic's office computer. I have to mop up the group therapy room.
I won't say I'm happy. I will say that writing in this blog again makes me nervous. I should never have done it. Blogs and computers and television and cell phones and cities...it all pushes you back to hysteria. And if you've been reading this blog, you know what hysteria can do.
I should never have gotten the psychotherapist to hack back into this blog for me. I should just stop and erase all this. But instead, I push the "publish" button...
Irv
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