It’s funny to think of Joe not noticing that his bed partner had shed forty pounds while his back was turned. Now I have only five teeth left in my jaw, just enough to anchor my bridges. That colors my thinking about the chocolate bar diet. Now I am again spread and heavy and indifferent, but I remember the mysterious pleasure of walking down the street in human form. To meet the eyes of strangers and find them holding no laughter or disgust—amazing. It was not a sense of beauty that thrilled me so; I was not beautiful. It was the simple fact of no longer being grotesque, of being at least inconspicuous in my ugliness.

The depth of gratitude I still feel, as it is undiminished even presently, to have known for a few years the innocence of the unselfconscious, I owe to that unique and voluptuous convection, the Volcano Bar, and its price, ten cents.

The first tomato

10:00 a.m.

There is some kind of mold between the tiles in the bathroom. A soft gray fuzz in the cracks. It’s ironic. I’ve always been suspicious of the kitchen tiles and have scrubbed them every week with ammonia and the wire brush. But the bathroom got by me. The tiles there are set closer together than the ones on the kitchen floor, and it’s too tempting to just sprinkle disinfectant while I damp mop. I wouldn’t have noticed, but I put a stronger lightbulb in there this morning just before I got down to cleaning. I felt sick when I saw it. All these years I’ve been going in there barefoot. I soaked it with the last of Mr. Geddoes’s solvent and put my rain boots outside the door so I can put them on before I go in. I can step right out of them into the tub and directly back into them when I get out of the tub. I’ll let it steep until morning and then scrub. If that doesn’t work, I don’t know what I’ll do. Jean would have some idea but I can’t call her.

I have to go down to the rocks this afternoon for a load of seaweed. And some periwinkles would be nice, in case Rennel actually comes on his appointed day. No one else comes anymore.

That seaweed has to go on the compost heap this month or it won’t be any good to me in the spring. Maybe the sand flies will follow it up again this year and titillate the toad. He seems sleepier lately.

I keep reminding myself that I have done what I could see to do. The light wasn’t strong enough before and the smoky blue walls seemed to suck it in and reflect none back.