I flip-flop between varied feelings. I’m all up and down and side to side. I can be full of mean-spirited thoughts, like wanting Angel out of my flat, wanting to be alone yet needing her to stay. And when I feel happy, as soon as I notice it, then I’m not happy anymore. It’s like a fleeting ghost that disappears if you catch sight of it. One must notice happiness only by stealth, whistling, as if it doesn’t matter at all, which it doesn’t I suppose. I’m going off the point again, into generalities.
