So, what did I want, a parade? I don't think so. I mean, when I finally snapped out of it — back in spring of '97 — I mostly wanted quiet. The last thing I would have wanted was to be the centerpiece of cheering people on either side of me, waving their hands and blowing kisses. The one thing I did want, this last time as well as back then, in '97 — which I never really thought I got, either time — was understanding. Maybe that goes deeper, though, deeper than the madness itself. Maybe that's part of the human condition, if we look at it. We want that; perhaps we all want that: we want someone to say, "I understand," and for that to be true.
I don't know why. I don't know why I would expect it, as I probably don't even understand myself very well. But that's probably not it, at all. We all have a sense of ourselves, somewhere — sometimes buried so far down we don't recognize it for what it is — but it's most likely there. There is also, somewhere in time, a moment in my history which captures me, which is me in the quintessence. I must reach back, but I have the feeling it's there, and that I didn't even notice it like that when I was at that moment. And there is probably more than one. Hm. Here's what I can make out that was most me (at least, what I have become): having mixed in far too much sugar and half-and-half in my coffee, I bow my head in Starbucks before my first sip, praying a little prayer of thanks for coffee.
That's me, I think. So, "Hello. How do you do?"
L.V.S.
11:04pm thursday, 29th november
your story is sweet and i was really touched by it.
L.V.S.