TOILETI walked out the gym late the woman at reception gave me a wry smile as I walked out with a towel on my head, We went to screwfix to pick up the toilet. I walked in towel still on my head she and all the butch men started to look at me staring at the towel. I walked to the counter. "What is the matter nobody ever seen a man with a towel on their head before." They all looked away and we left with our brand new toilet. THE WOMANI met the woman again last night mostly I have avoided her over the years the way I avoid everybody. She told me I looked like a skier I told her I had been known to ski in my past but everything was in my past now. She said she liked my short stories from all those years ago something that was powerful that lingered around the coffee table for days. I told her she was kind but of course she wasn't. She was in old people's care homes with a music group breathing new life into the old keeping them alive just that little bit longer. She didn't mention why we had not talked in years. She had that sense about me that something bad was going to happen the way a lot of people know even if I didn't know myself. Not yet. When she said goodbye she did it with that air that the conversation was not important to her at all and off she went. I wonder if I will talk to her next time if there is a next time LOSEWhat do you do when you are alone that is the real question. I don't know what others do. I can sit in silence writing and there is nothing else in the world but more times than not I do other things. Things so I don't have to write but why I don't know. Things so I don't have to be alone even though I run from people I walk the other way when I see them. I avoid them but that makes me lonelier so lonely I can't even write. So what do I do stay alone run to people pester them into talking to me. It is not that I am uninteresting I can laugh and be agreeable yeah I can be a good guy but in the end I have to lose I have to lose TELL ME A STORYi want people to tell me about their lives
their stories in that way I want to be a stenographer of other people's lives a chronicler. My life is not important at all only to tell theirs but the sick part of it all is I am shy, I can't talk to people only when I am thrown into life but life has not done that lately all it does is keep me here hiding from everybody. Sleeping and waiting
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