Night before last: I had a serious cut in the very bottom of my foot. I didn't even know it until I noticed, as I was walking down the carpeted stairs of an unfamiliar house, that I was leaving a trail of blood. The blood was thick and there was lots of it. I sat down in a chair and looked at the bottom of my foot. In the most tender part was a long cut, a gash, and the blood wouldn't stop flowing.
A woman...poet Sharon Olds?? helped me clean up the cut. She was very mothering to me. I acted dramatically as she cleaned it up, grimacing and squealing with the feel of the liquid she used stinging my open wound
Last night: I was staying with Pat. His house was one I'd never seen before. He was busy with his large group of friends. I wandered around trying to find a plastic bag for my dirty clothes. I had my backpack and wanted to repack my clothes. He took me aside and told me I didn't have to pay rent to him for the time I stayed with him. I nervously agreed. He seemed very content and happy in this new life he was leading, with people I didn't know.
