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9:05 a.m. - May 02, 2002 Everything swims around in my head and I feel seasick, sometimes dizzy, and I want to knock my head against a pole or something hard to jolt my senses, wake me up, make me feel something that hurts and bleeds instead of being dispassionate and removed from everything. I don't know what's going on with me and apparently I'm too weak to snap out of it and be normal again, not that I've ever been normal. Last night A[deleted]a called and I drifted in and out of her monologue and was confused by what she was saying, like Novocaine had been applied to my ears and I caught every fifth word and I laughed at the wrong places and she was confused and I couldn't get her off the phone fast enough. The outside is great though. That's good at least. I say it's great to be motivated to write the book but it's not me saying that, it's the veneer me, the one who's supposed to say that, while I watch from inside with glassy eyes. OK now reading that I, Jason, Non-Descript in everything, chuckle at the notion that I'm hosting multiples and wish it were only that easy. But it feels like that, it really does. In the counselor's office I speak drivel and think Come on lady ask me the things I want to talk about and engage in a battle of wills to turn the tables and get her to talk about herself which pleases me. You know those people who had straight-A report cards but were stupid as hell? That's me. I have absolutely nothing to say from the pit. You know Abe's Woman in the Dunes? I feel like that, digging a hole that constantly fills itself with more sand and the veneer can't hear the voice inside that shouts Stop! Stop!
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