[This post happens after a whole lot of writing exercises, and some mention of not being able to keep food down. Also, mention of nearly zero visibility in the tower -- basically completely fogged in with clouds.]
I feel better, and still haven't eaten or drank. I took a fucking *walk*, that's all.
This whole month, inside the mind (tower) not having anything to see, no visibility (only because I was "above it all") is too easy an analogy. Like when K. [an older poet friend from the bay area, somewhat of a mentor] called out, derringer in hand, "give me a sign, that's all i ask, a sign to know you exist." God sends? A man, out of nowhere, carrying a sign, "Jesus loves you." The sufi's say" It's closer than your Jugular." And I believe them.
(I must find this woman Cynthia, the one whose eyes are blue, jaw square, and has lived the life of the mendicant)
I'm going to write a letter to my sister. Bye for now. Much love.
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