From the book: I swear I'm sane! And aware anyone who swears they're sane is immediately suspect, since sanity's rightly assumed to be the default frame of mind. Why apprehensive concerning my frame of mind after deliriously boogie boarding, dancing? Marisol's more stunning than a field of shimmering dew-drenched flowers at dawn-her eyes, radiant with affection and energy, are dizzy ascension. We were relishing one another-couldn't stop caressing, kissing-yet became separated, lost one another-I'm utterly mystified as to why, recollect nothing. And there's no telling how much alcohol I've imbibed, nor do I have a clue how much sleep I've obtained since around 10:00 AM in NYC day before yesterday. Sleep-deprivation's hallucinogenic, I'm as amped up as disoriented, in thrall to paranoia and expectation alike-grinding my back against the wall.
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