my first roommate, during my senior year of College.......whom I became fixated on. the 'feelings' were, at that time, mutual........but, temporary...like most early infatuations... We exchanged long letters, poetry and dream revelations for a year after being separated by a couple of thousand miles.......My letters were returned, bound lovingly with margin notes....in the romantic tradition of Keats, Byron and Shelley.....and a request that 'this must end!'.......alas..... I do have the stuffed bunny...its ears in a knot....six decades hence..........
Reading the bound blackbook that I sent 'Charles' in 1968....the hundred pages, written on the IBM Selectric, the pages began to fall from the volume...pages that had been scotch-taped over the more revealing words, written before....now 'beneath'.....a representation of conscious repression.....with fading ink on decomposing paper......I remembered neither of the 'storylines'. However, isn't this the definition of 'repression'? .......forgetting, then forgetting you've forgotten? The brittle yellow tape, having released the 'underneath' from the ablative conjuring, masking the shame of confessional exploratory....
AS TIME GOES ON.........I JUST VIEWED THIS PHOTOGRAPH OF CHARLES, TAKEN YESTERDAY, AUG. 17, 2025........IN A HOSPITAL BED....TEMPERATURE @ 104F.....AT RISK OF DEATH FROM A URINARY TRACT INFECTION........I WOULD NOT HAVE RECOGNIZED 'THIS PERSON'!
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