I Love This Idea Of The Body

I've Subsequently Become Conscious Of Making Memories. Which Makes Me Sound Like A Scrapbooker.

I Have A Daughter Who, When Younger, Possessed No Barrier Between Her Emotional Self And The Outside World. Her Emotional Insides Spilled Out All Over, And, Especially When I Was Sleep-deprived And Probably A Little Paranoid, This Really Threatened Me. It Was As If She Were Embodying And Expressing The Insecurities And Freaked-outedness I Never Express, And Which I've Learned Over The Years To Keep Hidden.

If I Can Just Stop Being So Stressed Out, Maybe My Cancer Will Get Better! This Is Far Less Scary Than Treating A Disease Of Unknown Etiology.

I Really Did For A Few Weeks Think, I'm In Pain Because The World Needs Me To Save It. Which Is So Ridiculous And Egotistical.

Like Semmering Academy, The Grove School Was A Gothic Pile Of Bricks Run By 1950s-era Chalk Drones, Which Maintained Its Cultural Viability By Perpetuating A Weirdly Seductive Anxiety Throughout Its Community. Mary Herself Was A Victim Of The Seduction; Despite The Trying And Repetitive Emotional Requirements Of Her Job, She Remained Eternally Fascinated By The Wicker-thin Girls And Their Wicker-thin Mothers, All Of Them Favoring Dark Wool Skirts And Macintoshes And Unreadably Far-away Expressions; If She Squinted, They Could Have Emerged Intact From Any Of The Last Seven Decades.