this morning I went to my closet, after a shower. I felt I might be coming out of the severe funk I've been in. But I was faced with some deep physical difficulty in my closet: I didn't have what I wanted to wear. Basically, I wanted to wear a cotton suit, a full body layer of warmpth and protection. Something I just stepped into and didn't have to buckle or fasten or layer or zip. Something like what Cody had made, I guess.

Or, I thought, I really want to wear something that I could wrap around my chest and tighten. With straps maybe. I didn't have that either.

I told a friend; she said, "it sounds like you wanted to wear a hug." I think that's about right.

So I sobbed a bit about this, and finally put on a full body red long underwear suit, with torn-up painted-on jeans shorts over it. I thought, if I'm feeling fucked up, I'll dress like I'm fucked up and people will avoid me. I paraded around my house like that for a while. Then as I was getting ready to go to school, I realized I would probably feel better if I looked like steady and serious so I put on my dark banded-collar suit and monk's undershirt. People thought I was prepared to start some martial arts. I did feel pretty together. I looked like I was about to adjudicate something.