1. I hesitate to call him a junky because I don’t know what he was using, but a barely conscious man on the train fell over out of his seat when we pulled in to 72nd street. He wasn’t dead, he had a friend with him who didn’t seem terribly concerned. It wasn’t me.
2. Charlie was lucid today; which also makes me sad. He said he missed me.
3. The curried lamb stew at Harry’s.
4. The lamb that gave its life for that one meal, which I’ll probably forget about.
5. My capacity for compassion, for the lamb, the addict in the the subway, Charlie in the nursing home, and others. It would be more comfortable sometimes not to have that, but I think there’s something innately good about it, even if it’s not exactly a heralded value in the country right now.

Many thanks,

Me