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11:13 am

So I came home.  I went to Paris, starved, feasted, starved some more.  I sent pathetic messages to Nother, persevering self-pity, today I am twenty hours without food, your money was very welcome as I had been without food for 42 (forty-two) hours, spells of fasting are common for me now.  And from her position prostrate before the door she would sell furniture, rugs so her suffering boy might eat and buy magazines and a blue condom.  Once I missed her money order by two minutes.  Encore deux minutes!  Ferme.  See what I mean see?  I had nothing when Dad’s message came and had to pretend to speak broken English to avoid tipping a porter.  Inhabit the obsequious manner of a foreigner.  O, that’s all only all right.  And home.  Now I march over the piled stone mamoth skulls.  Proud, though it is not a task to take in jest, to show the base of all the universe — nor for a tongue that cries out “Nother.”