I am here, eating out the melted Berry Sour off my finger, the candy stretching out like wax-like taffy, dripping back on to its fuchsia Candy 4 Cures can (of the Jimmy V Foundation which Dad Ambrose received as a complimentary gift along with innumerable other cans of soursuckers from a Carolina golf tournament. Dave Mira was also a participant who ditched his skateboard temporarily for tee). I am wearing my sunglasses. My excuses: it's high noon and my eyes are bulging out of their sockets; I have been bawling my head off since ten last night.

I am also reading Plath's "The Fearful" and "A Life". On and on I go about it. A representation of my present state of mind.


Unpretty.