right. here we go... saw fiona today. my shrink. i was ready to dump her, but then amost like the skies parted, sort of a breakthrough. i overslept, bicycled like a maniac through the morning rush hour of londons east side. down into soho, like chivette. my hero. my icon. dodging trucks and buses, over the curbs, biting into the windy fresh air, thrusting. then sitting there, leaning back, with nothing to loose. i said kick me. kick me awake. like she did. and then all at once i started to cry (which isnt easy on the kind of doses of anti-deps im on!). there is still great mystery there- deep and magical- and this sense of amazing possibility. its very dream like. but ... its like i am not actually _in_ the whirlpool anymore. more just peering into it. give me a month to get my blood clean of this shit... i dont know. maybe , i was thinking, i may even postpone jumping off the end of the world.
