I spent most of the day trying to get the satellite dish to work. I think that I proved to myself how incompetent I am at it by looping the card that I had in what appears to be a somewhat irreparable loop. A loop is when the card has one line that refers to the other. When it happens the card no longer can be written to or work at all. What you are apparently supposed to do is to run the delooping tool and 20 minutes later everything is fine again. Unfortunately it doesn’t work that way at all for me. It just goes on trying to glitch the thig forever so I am going to let it go overnight and maybe try another delooping tool tomorrow. I think that I need to make a copy of a subscriber’s card. I can borrow my dad’s card but then I wouldn’t be able to send it around to anyone. I could also just find someone who has a working card and copy it. I wonder if I do know anyone with a working card other than my dad?

Well I was feeling really weird after going out on a date with J. I braved the storm even though dad said that it would be very dangerous to go out in it. The storm wasn’t my problem. I am my problem. I got to her apartment and she had cooked steak tips, potatoes, and salad. After we ate we rushed to the movie and then when we got back I just dropped her off. With J there is never time to end an evening in some romantic way. Actually the real problem is that I don’t know how to end an evening in a romantic way without giving myself a heart attack. So I felt this incredible awkward feeling at the end of the evening when she was leaving my car. She looked at me with an awkward pause and I couldn’t tell if that meant that she was expecting me to let her know if I liked her by reaching over for a kiss. Of course I feel so unsure of myself and the rules and what I should be doing at the end of a date that I just said goodbye and then she walked out. I think that had I done what I really wanted to do I would have invited myself up to her apartment so that neither she nor I would be lonesome tonight. But I didn’t and instead I returned home at 9:30 on a night where I have little to do before I sleep but wonder what is really wrong with me and to feel that loneliness has finally captured me from behind. It surprised me when it came. It was funny because loneliness wasn’t surrounding me until I pulled out of the lot at J’s place. I would think it was totally my fault for why I have trouble connecting with J but maybe two shy people just have a lot of trouble expressing themselves to each other. That’s what I prefer to think. It is a major effort for either person to become extroverted enough to communicate what they feel and want. So for people like me it takes either the perfect person and passion that is so hot it is under extreme pressure or it takes a person who isn’t shy about things. I have been with the ones who aren’t shy so far… even though they were shy people. They just happened to have passion at the time. I really do need to conquer my fears if I ever hope to be who I would like to be. It just is so hard to do!

Anyways. I’ll keep trying all angles. I haven’t even called back Waichi’s friend from the hospital. I can’t expect things to work out if I don’t keep trying. I could call Amanda since she is likely to connect easily with me. At least we have broken the ice with each other physically so that now it isn’t a big deal for us to be physical. I can only think that the reason why it was so easy with her was because she was clear that she liked people to be physical with her and she made a point of inviting me to her apartment and to suggest activities like curling-up to watch DVDs and sitting together on the couch that encourage touching. I think that going out to the theatre and movies is bad for me because I don’t really have a chance to get intimate with the person who I am out with. It is better to watch a DVD at home or to do something that doesn’t have such strict time limits for the beginning and ending. Maybe my next date with J, if she’ll let me take her out again??, will be to go snow tubing in Nashoba Valley. If we did that we would have to be out for most of the day. It still is bad because there is no time at her place or mine at the end of the day built into the date. It requires a lot of planning to make things go well. I wish I wasn’t such a chicken in terms of laying out options for the women who I meet. If I could tell them that I would like to kiss them or just try to kiss them then I would be much happier. That ought to be my goal. To kiss women at the end of dates or at least offer or attempt each time it seems even remotely possible. I am a loser despite knowing the game. If I try I might succeed. If I don’t try I am sure to fail. I felt so lonesome earlier tonight. Writing is very good for my spirits. Even though nobody reads these journal entries; when I write them I feel as though there is someone else with me in the room and that is enough to chase away the loneliness. It is the same with occupations like working through the satellite dish. The devil preys on idle minds. I need to stay active… otherwise I’ll find myself drinking beers and staring at the Window’s Media Player screen image for two to 3 hours while listening to music that has a general them of people being alone or lost. That is enough for now. I’m going to go look for women on the Internet.

Nighttime. Next day.

I spent most of the day at work not working. It was impossible for me to focus on work. I’ve never been so distracted but maybe it is impossible to work when there is nobody in the office at all and there isn’t really anything important that needs to be done. So instead I dreamed all morning about my social life, the satellite, my little world. I had a voicemail from Liz m. It turns out that she was trying to connect with me last week. She called me after I gave her an update via email. She told me that she had gone through some serious trauma in the past few months. She had been dating and pretty much common law married to a 31 year old man. They lived together in a house that they had bought and he was doing full time work while she was taking care of the house. On November 5th she her boyfriend had gone out for a birthday party and apparently was hit by a car and killed. It makes you wonder? Life is so short and yet I am passing it in such trivial ways. If only I could really live that would be an incredible change. If I can’t live I can at least take advantage of my need to communicate and to type by writing stories. Even stories are so difficult for me right now because they require me to focus on something for more than 5 minutes and all that I have is a 5 minute attention span. That’s what I told Liz today. I told her that my attention span was show. She recommended writing lists of things that I wanted to do and I told her that I do that but I just use the list as a launching point to shift minute by minute between the items on the list. The real problem is obvious. There is no longer anything in my life that I feel passionate about. I am not passionate about a woman. I am not passionate about a dream. I am drifting through time and towards death without a direction. I get into conversations with people and I let them know … I just don’t have any stories to tell or things to say. My life has been very boring and I can’t entertain them with who I am. It is all so pitiful. So I suppose I deserve some sympathy or empathy.

That’s what happened at the end of the pub crawl in the South End.I got into a big fight with Heidi, our tour guide through little Ireland. She had mentioned that there were private strip clubs in Boston and I told her that there weren’t any good strip clubs in B oston and that I didn’t even believe her about the private strip clubs. She got a little offended and eventually told me that she felt sorry for me and that she had sympathy. Then she told me when I seemed offended by her comment about sympathy that she felt empathy for me. That was when I got nice and offended and told her that she should be careful with the words that she used because empathy means that she feels what I feel and wan’t appropriate for an insult because it should really only be used when someone actually feels someone elses emotions. At that point she sensed my tension and I told her straight out that I didn’t like to be told that she had sympathy for me and that I thought that she should stop acting condescending to me. That was when she told me that I had been condescending to her. I think the reason why she felt that way was that I had been giving her shit about the gypsy strip clubs in Boston that she apparently claimed had kitchens that she had worked in. Anyways… she walked out and then Robert had to go get her. At the same time we had been trying to negotiate for the fish. She had also been offended when I had said… let’s kill a fish because I had seen the fish in the window of the late night Chinese restaurant. When you are in a Chinese restaurant at 3:00 AM and you have been on a pub crawl in the south end all night I suppose you can get a little jumpy and irritable. So eventually Robert talked her into coming back inside. I would have been entertained if she had walked off seeing as she didn’t have any money on her so she wasn’t about to get far after storming out of the door. Well… it isn’t a good story but at least I got out of the apartment that night!

I’m pretty far from making a valid card. I have kept a log of all of the things that I did in case anything works. For now I have a clean 30 minutes of programming before the card craps out on me. That I can do quite reliably now so it is progress because I know somewhat of what I am looking for when I burn the card in the first place. It needs to be activated, etc. Some BINs need to be cleaned and have HEX files applied before they work. I am not sure if there is any magic combo between BIN and HEX. The real trick seems to be to get a valid BIN file in the first place. My best bet is to copy the one from my dad’s lab or find someone who is a subscriber that I can borrow the card from. There must be someone who has a real card. Well …. I have the new TV getting delivered. I already asked Phillip to send me his BIN so that I have something that can work for long enough for me to watch a movie or TV on the DSS system. It is becoming an obsession for me to get the DSS system pirated and working. I think the reason why I have any passion for it is because it offers me a slow learning experience. It is frustrating but I can pass through each step and learn what I need to do. Each test takes me one point closer to getting a working system. I have this imaginary vision of the Enigma project cracking the code of the Japanese and Germans in WWII and this is my first step towards getting back engaged to being a code cracker. I wish sometimes that I could have been alive at the time of Touring and be able to see the birth of the first computers designed to crack the codes. Collossus. Enigma. I wonder if I really would have been allowed to be a code breaker at that time. I also wonder if with modern computers whether code breaking is back where it was originally. The code makers can make nearly unbreakable code but the code crackers have extremely powerful hardware to use to crack the codes.

I am writing this journal as though it is to someone. I guess that it is to me. I love Windows Media Player and I love the fact that I can touch type and watch it instead of looking at the screen. It means that I can just sit and think through my fingers into the computer and enjoy the sights of the computer. I am going to really enjoy the full screen media player stretched out across my 46 inch TV on Sunday night. I will probably just lie down and watch it and write. I wish sometimes when I see the screen that I had some dope to help me to mellow out and relax. Tonight. I thought about going out but I chained myself inside so that I could learn a little about myself. I wanted to learn how to be alone with myself and to get to sleep without the insomnia taking over me. So far it hasn’t worked all that well. I haven’t tried the sure first tricks for some reason. Those are to read a book. I found a tear rolling down my eye. I don’t know if it was out of sadness or because I had a tear that was in my eye because I was starting so hard at the screen. I may never know. It probably wasn’t anything meaningful. It’s funny that I started writing now that I have been alone for a couple of days. I does make me very happy to be typing at the keyboard again. When I do this I feel like I have found an old friend and that my friend who I haven’t seen for so long is embracing me through my fingers. It could be that I just enjoy the \sense of touch. Because I am so afraid of touching women because I fear how they might react I probably am touch deprived. So when I touch the keys it helps me to satiate my need for touch. That also could explain why I could never really write when a woman is around. It’s not because I can’t write or that they are distracting me. It’s just that they are satiating a basic need for touch. So as long as I stay away from touching women I can write as a way to fulfill some of my basic desires. IF all goes well I will settle in one night from writing a journal to writing a work of fiction. It really won’t be much different to write fiction instead of a journal. I’d almost rather be writing a fantasy than things about my own life. I so often wish that I could drivt into one of my many fantasies. I could just dream a different world with the perfection in me and in my surroundings that I can only imagine. I could create a world that would be a theatre for my dreams and fantasies because the real world is a very difficult theatre to perform in. I am getting tired. I hope my loader found the ATR. If not I’ll have to try some evasive measures.

In the end I’ll need to call today a failure of a day. Why? Because I couldn’t get a valid BIN. I expect the satellite dish receiver to validate my existence each time I try to put the card in to get a stable signal. When it doesn’t it shows how little I know and how much more work I need to do to learn enough to be able to defeat it. That is why I enjoy it so much. It gives me a chance to have a yes or no answer to work that I am doing. It’s not any fuzzy answer like when I am with a woman or when I am at work. Either I have achieved my goal of making a working card or I haven’t and I haven’t achieved that goal yet. I’ll ask my dad tomorrow if I can read his BIN off of his card. I’m tired of writing for tonight. This is still not much of a work given that it is only 4 pages long and it is 2 whole nights of writing in a journal. Well… I think that I can fill quite a few pages if I don’t get carpal tunnel.

Next day Dec 28th – Saturday night

I told J how shy I am. I don’t know whether she cared or not but I feel better about myself. I let her know that it was and is very hard for me to call her on the phone. She wasn’t sure if I was ever going to call her again since we had gone out on Wednesday night and it was already Saturday and I hadn’t called again. I’ve been consumed with my media projects and the 46” TV. I did manage to go out today by skiing with mom and dad. Dad broke his finger in some weird way. I think he dislocated it. Mack went walking out on the lake. I made a new friend at the hair dressing place. She was cool. I guess she isn’t really my friend because she is just someone who cuts hair but she was a fun to talk to. Anyways… I don’t feel much like writing right now. I’d rather get some rest. Tomorrow is the big Pats game. I did feel weird tonight because it is Saturday night and I am alone. I went alone to the pizza parlor down the street. It was pretty depressing.

St. Maarten

I have decided to give people complex favors more often. My task for Rhea and Drew to deliver a lion with a ticket to the Lion King to Rachel in Toronto was a success. I should have thanked them but I am still working out the rituals of asking people for complex favors. I may not be normal but I am always waiting for a complex favor to be asked of me. I wait diligently for them. Hattie wanted to go to a Patriots game and now that is arranged. I was thinking about the complex favor when I put down the John Irving book that I was reading on his futon. In some ways I’ve asked a complex favor of Jeremy for this past week. I’ve asked him to put me up in St. Maarten and to live his life differently for a week. He normally stays inside and hides from the world. This week he needed to be a tour guide and a tourist on his own island. Furthermore he loaned me his copy of “The Water Method Man” so that I would have something to read in the off hours. Neither of these was the favor that I had been thinking about. I had been thinking about the story that he told me about how he had acquired “The Water Method Man”. He had communicated with one of the women that he attracted on his web site to come down to St. Maarten and had asked her for a token in exchange for letting her stay with him on his boat when she came to visit. The favor was to bring a John Irving book with her. When she arrived she had the complete works of John Irving with her as the exchange for her free lodging, expert company, and sexual playmate.

I was thinking that I should ask people who I know, and who may love me, that they should bring me books as well. I know that they could always buy any book that I wanted in a bookstore or over the Internet so that would not be allowed in order to fulfill my favor request. Books are best when they fall into the hands of the reader in strange ways. A gift is a fair way for a book to arrive. I prefer to buy books in used places and especially to find books in places where the books require a rescue from certain death in basements, auctions, or garbage receptacles. In June I went to a church sale across the street from me and picked-up a copy of “The Bonfire of the Vanities” by Tom Wolf for only fifty cents. I wouldn’t say it was the best book that I have read in a long time but I enjoyed the way that I obtained it. I also recently read Umberto Ecco’s “In the Name of the Rose” because I asked Amanda to recommend a book to me. At the time I was on a blind first date with Amanda that had been set-up over the Internet for us to meet at the Trident bookstore/Café on Newbury street. It was the first time I had ever seen Amanda in person. She was larger than I had expected and we disagreed about the role of fate in our lives and the possibility of an afterlife. I told her that I know that when I die that there will be no more of me other than what I have made.

What I would like to do is to give certain people a list of books that I think I might enjoy and tell them to keep an eye out for it in strange places. I could even post it on the Internet and update it frequently. I could also post the books that I have read and what I thought of them. Why not? The books on my wish list might be something that friends could steal from the bookshelf of a bed and breakfast, or maybe something they could find in a pile of junk sitting on a street corner. I have found good books that way. I still need to read “Love in the Time of Cholera”. I rescued that book from a box that was left as trash a few months ago and is awaiting my attention. It was awaiting death along with some out of date medical journals that I left to rot at the bottom of a junk pile. I saw it as I was walking back after seeing Jeremy off after his visit with his sister. I also found a book by Aldous Huxley called “Island”. I haven’t read it yet. I’m not sure if I really want to read it but I have enough respect for Huxley because of “Brave New World” and “The Doors of Perception” to give him a chance with a book that doesn’t seem in character for him. I do know that great authors can write books that I don’t like. I was very disappointed by George Orwell when I read “Keep the Aspidistra Flying”. It was hard for me to believe that he also was the author of 1984. I can never remember George Orwell’s name. I always confuse it with Orson Wells.

I have too many names to keep track of to ever remember any of them. I also kept forgetting the stripper from Lithuania’s name that I met at the Golden Eye adult entertainment club. She was the one that I fell in love with but it was easier for me to remember the names of the two other Lithuanian strippers. Their names are Ilga, she was the larger one with enormous breasts, and Sara, the one who stood on my chair during a lap-dance. The one who I loved after five minutes with her is Katya. After much struggles I have committed her to memory now. I hope she sends me an email. Sarah, Jeremy’s former girlfriend and current weird incomplete broken relationship girl believes that Katya will send me an email offering some lude sex-act in order to get into the USA for a Visa or marriage but Jeremy believes that she will not and that she only took my email because it is a way to make more money off of people like myself who like to fantasize about strippers.

When my friends find books that are to become gifts for me they need to write an inscription in the inside cover. The inscription will need to contain where and how they obtained the book. If it is too long to explain in the inside cover then it would be fine for them to write a book themselves and staple it. But I imagine that most book discoveries can be easily held on a blank page before a book begins. Since the book is to be a present for me it then needs to say something more. It needs to explain to me something about the person who is giving it to me and their current impressions and feelings about me. While I would love for everything written on an inside cover to tell me how wonderful it is to be around me I would be equally interested if someone were to think that I had been acting like a total prick or if I had ruined their lives with my infidelity. I don’t think I’ve ruined anyone’s life with my infidelity but it would make quite a prize to open a book in my library and read in the binding something like that. I would need to hide that book from some people! Mostly I can imagine a vast collection of books with stories around them. They would be like the Talmud interpreting the bible as a wrapper around it.



Morning in St. Maarten

I awoke from a dream at 8:06 AM.

That was three hours earlier than we planned to get-up to go bicycling. My first part of the dream had been disgusting. I don’t remember how the circumstances arose but I recall walking into a room to find S. and Ron together. They wanted to show me that they had started to have sex together. Ron was clad in pea green tighty-whities and S. was wearing a short baby-T. He had one of Ron’s smug looks on his face that is a real trait of Ron where he likes to show you that he has accomplished something and not only is he proud of who he is but that he must be better than you because of it. I saw S. crouched, not in a normal doggie style but in a praying position and Ron’s long phallus was sticking out of his underwear through the flap that is provided for peeing in the men’s room. He was pushing it in from behind and then I had to turn away. I walked towards a trade-show that was in another part of the hotel that we were in. The trade show smelled of wonderful candies and confections as it was a show for candy makers to show their wares to all of the candy stores to select their merchandise from. I could see in peeking through the doorway that there were candied-apples, warm fudge, hot brownies, and Necco wafers waiting for me inside. As I walked through the doorway to the trade show to begin my feast on the candies I awoke. I needed to go to the bathroom and so I thought to myself how angry I was that I had been awoken in the middle of such a promising dream. It wasn’t fair that I hadn’t awoken during the painful vision of S. and Ron fucking in such a cruelly demonstrative way. They had been trying to make me angry or jealous.

I called up to Jeremy to let him know what I had missed and why I was suddenly in a foul mood when I returned from peeing in the bathroom. I asked him “Do you know what the problem is with dreams Jeremy?”

“What?” He replied clearly wishing that I hadn’t woken him up.

“You have them and they tempt you and then once they get out of reach you can never get back to them.”

“Go back to sleep! I can get back to my good dreams as long as I go to sleep fast enough after I wake-up and try to continue them where they left off.” he grumbled.

I wasn’t sure if I was going to return to S. and Ron fucking or if I was going to return to the candy store. When I woke-up again I didn’t remember a thing. It is so easy to have amnesia about the world of our dreams.

X also wrote something else in my yearbook that makes me cringe to think about after these 11 years. She wrote “Never stop writing.” Again there were only three words from X and they often ring in my ears as I sit aimlessly on the subway trains slowly dragging me from one end of Brookline to the cold winter streets of Cambridge. That was a helpful piece of information to keep but one that I couldn’t let myself do for the past 11 years. But I have been given a new life again and I am not sure how much of the old life that I had created I should shed away. After horseback riding into the warm ocean waters today we went to the Butterfly farm. Jeremy, me, Sarah, and Jeremy’s parents were all there. The butterflies were nice. The tour guide who showed us the butterflies was the same person who was the singer in the cover band that we heard the night before. He looked a bit like Rod Stewart. We also see him in other places like the party at Hot Tomatoes that we went to. Rianne looked like a Tomatoe because she had her day off and spent it at the beach. Of all the Brittish girls that work at Diamond’s International I liked Rianne’s accent the best. She is Welsh. It sounds tangy like a good tomatoe sauce. I told her that as well. Some day I will fly Rianne back to Boston and ask her to read books to me in her Welsh accent. Or at least that’s something I can dream of.

Today is December 15th. S. moved out on December 7th . For people who know Japanese and American history it would be clear to them that December 7th is Pearl Harbor day. According to president Roosevelt at the time “The day that will live in infamy”. We hadn’t chosen that day because we wanted S.’s moving out to be infamous. It just happened to be the day that the apartment she found on Newbury street would be available. Matt Breuer, a former potential lover of hers asked her over chat what she would be doing for PHD (Pearl Harbor Day).

As a result of S.’s moving out I promised myself that I would start writing again on December 15th as I recast and rebuilt my life. When the person you have lived with for four years moves out of your life it leaves a hole the size of the Lincoln tunnel. I want to put my life back into the tracks that it should have been in for the past 10 years before I turn 30. I am 29 now and given that it is a prime year I can say that I must be in my prime. But I already know that were I to die the world would barely mourn the loss of me for a few days. S. would come to the funeral along with my other family members. People in Boston might also come. Bijoux’s birthday was on December 8th. He would have been one year old. I owe him a great debt for helping me to be reborn. I still love him very much and I will visit his grave, likely covered in a fresh coat of snow, when I return to Boston. I will need to take S. with me. She has never seen the stone either. His grave-stone should be ready by then. If they have done everything right it will read:

Our Beloved
Bijoux
2000-2001

They laid him in the ground in a piece of Tupperware. There is room in the grave for other animals but I am not sure that we will ever put more into it. Burying love isn’t easy and it can tear everything apart.


Leaving St. Maarten at the airport.

I am now at the airport awaiting the flight to San Juan. I did what I normally do when I am waiting for a flight. It is something that I do instinctively and without fail. I look aimlessly across the crowds and then when I find what I am looking for I aim myself at a seat that is strategically placed near someone who I would like to meet or sit with. An airport isn’t a bar and neither is a train or a beach but when I am in a situation like this I like to sit and position myself near someone who might be young, beautiful, female, and single. There is always someone in the world that comes the closest to fitting this profile even if I need to wander about the terminal for minutes or hours. This time I sat next to a woman near terminal three although I was leaving from Terminal 5. I hoped that she was also going to San Juan on the way to some destination so that we could happily chat and kiss and love each other on the 40 minute flight to my transfer back to Boston. She had blond hair that was probably dyed blond. She was wearing a black dress with a white leather belt to separate her top from her bottom. Her face was dark and beautiful and I could see her deep-set brown eyes as she glanced at me when I sat down. She looked lonesome so it felt right as a perfect prospect for me. I unfortunately don’t have the right personality to actually ever speak to the person who I sit next to. That is unheard of or at least not something that I can find the courage to do. So instead, as soon as I took a seat next to her I reached into my bag and I grabbed my Jonathan Carroll book, The Marriage of Sticks. Jonathan Carroll is obsessed with collecting things. The Marriage of Sticks is a concept in the book that when a major event occurs in your life you are supposed to find a stick that you feel is valuable and write something on it to remember the event and the day. Throughout your life you are supposed to collect these sticks and periodically remove the ones that really have no significance. When you are ready to die or no longer interested in living any more you burn the sticks in a little fire. It seems related to my thoughts because the sticks should mark major events like decisions in your life. How many real decisions have I made? Was leaving Nadia really a decision or did S. pull me away from her?

This would be a great time to read a book if I weren’t so distracted by the fact that I am sitting next to a beautiful girl. So I instead look down at the page and fantasize about how I could introduce myself to her. I scan through a few pages without absorbing any words until I am shocked by what’s written beneath me. The main character has heard ghosts and they are saying to each other “I fuck you good. You know I fuck you good.” – “Fuck me hard.” Even though the words are enough to shock me into the book I look up at her to see her eyes glancing towards me and then to see her eyes suddenly dart away from me.

I think that the ideal thing to say is “Where are you heading” or “What brought you to St. Marten?”. I then become even more obsessed with where the conversation might turn. I might ask something deep and something that is bothering me about my life. I think of decisions in life because not talking to her is one of the many long stream of non-decisions that I have made in my life. There are so many decisions that I could make and so few that I am able to make. The decision that I would like to make now is to say hello to her. I’d like to introduce myself to her. I’d like to know her just for an instant before she boards her plane or our plane. But that isn’t possible for me here and now. I try quickly to invent another persona. I invent someone other than me who could live in my body and can introduce me to her. He only needs to live for an instant or two. That person might be someone like Phillip. He needs to be someone who knows how to introduce himself to anyone. Phillip told me that all you need to do is to make a woman laugh. He told me that it is all that they really want from a stranger. I thought back to the remark that I would have made on the beach earlier. I would say to a pair of girls that I was a gigolo and that I was having a two for one sale today if they were interested. That would break the ice. I could say that to myself up and down the beach as I prepared to dive into the water alone.

Making an opening remark isn’t the skill that I need. It is the ability to overcome fear. Paxil. Could that help? I think about the water and how I am able to dive into the water even when it is cold. It is so simple to dive into the water. I count to three and on the third count I dive in. Here I count to three multiple times. I keep counting. I try to conjure up someone; I try to conjure my alter ego. I still am plagued by the idea that I am unable to make decisions. I think about the train that I am on and despite any attempts or knowledge of where it leads I refuse to try to exit or to run to escape. It could be a train to Daschau or some other concentration camp but would I even have the courage to run in that situation. So could I ask her a simple question about her life “What decisions have you made in your life?”. I see the ring on her finger and it is a diamond but I can’t see the ring that would be the wedding ring. She must be married or something but there is no reason why she might be in the airport alone if she is married. So I think that maybe I should ask or try to determine it. I am an author looking for subjects and she could be one of mine. She gets up for the Miami flight as my heart continues to flutter in fear and excitement as I haven’t read a page in my Jonathan Carroll novel. So as soon as she gets-up I pull out my laptop to write this note to myself to remember what it was like here and who I am.

Now the line begins to form for San Juan and it is time to go.