September 30, 2001
The beast toasts my aloneness

Broken glass on the half stained wooden deck—it screams at me “Hey come play!” Do it! Play with the glass… it’s never stopped you before. A garbage can with more shards of glass! The idea gets better the more I write. I hate myself for getting angry. I hate myself for the mistakes I’ve made. I hate myself because nobody trusts me. I hate myself for not running away from my ex-wife, Sande—I did but in the wrong way. I hate myself, because I have to live like this! A self that doubts everybody including himself—I hate myself for writing this.