Found two Lary Niven books today, and Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass. There was a nice selection of LeGuin too, but they were pricer higher than what I could afford. What else: still painting and drawing, trying to learn command lines. I almost fell apart in the library today. Client I was with asked me why I was sad...I just slapped a weak smile on and told him I was OK. It didn't fool him. Mentally disabled people can be surprisingly astute.

Don't know what else to say, except that things are actually getting better. I hate the way loneliness creeps up suddenly; in a store, driving, at work, and it's so paralyzing and overwhelming. Things can be going along routinely, and then, BANG! it grips me so tightly I can't think of anything else.