Almighty god

I had another appointment at the solicitors at twelve.

On my way there I bumped into Morris; he gave me a clenched fist salute as he saw me and said “she’s looking good,” presumably referring to the case. At the solicitors I had to sign an affidavit which has been made up in my name on behalf of everyone at the Vicarage. I was taken across the road to the offices of Salitieri, Poore, Nash, De Brutus and Short, Commissioner of Oaths, where I signed and swore “by Almighty God” (with Bible in my right hand) that I was who I said I was and that the information in the affidavit was correct.

I went onto campus after that and sat about in the library basement listening to Lucy and her SWP friends talking about the power of LSD to awaken consciousness to revolutionary viewpoints. The usual perfumed liberal torturings and postures. Pete told me that I seem to have a static image of people fixed in my mind that’s remained unchanged since I came to University. When I asked him to elaborate he either couldn’t or wouldn’t.

Ironically enough my work this term appears quite interesting, and we’re reading William Burroughs, John Barthes, Saul Bellow, Thomas Pynchon and Kathy Acker. Last Monday’s tutorial was ‘on’ USA by John Dos Passos which we were all supposed to have read over the Easter break. Needless to say I hadn’t, but I still managed to inject comments into the conversation which made it seem as though I knew what I was talking about. I tried to find Ian Pugh today to apologise for my absence on Monday but had to make do with a note in which I claimed I had an appointment with the solicitor instead.

I got a letter from Mum today and she says that Nanna P. has had another attack of head pains and has at long last consented to see a doctor, who’s given her blood tests, etc. She’s afraid that the doctor will discover she’s is in a poor state of health. I wrote back to Mum and Dad while on campus, a typically lifeless and hackneyed letter, every word a real effort.

How is that you’re only able to say the least to those you love the most? I find the better I know a person the harder it is to write a free and easy letter. It’s frustrating.

Tonight Lee and I are going to visit the empty shop up Ledwell Street again to pick over it at our leisure.