One of my major disability’s is that I have no legs. Because I can’t physically sleep on a couch or a garden, it’s difficult to make the mental journey. I admit that I feel like I am a prisoner of my bed. I wake up when I have a walking dream and I feel confused about the gears that are propelling me.

Yes. As comfortable as I can feel. I’m able to cruise at this speed. This speed is greater than allowed by the law of psychodynamics, though. I cycle, though. I could construct, could consider, certainly, “other states of being,” but I can’t — I can’t — consider any state that might lead back. I don’t want banalities.

I took LSD over a period of years. We all did at that time. I stopped when I was first prescribed psychotropic drugs. I was a once-a-year-at-Christmas drinker and am iffy about that tradition now. Maybe every third or fourth year. I mention LSD because I think of all of those “other states of being” that I was able to visit when tripping. I never had a disagreeable trip and I’ve thought of trying it again. Then I think better of it — I only ever tripped socially, in the company of friends, and I think that tripping alone would make me feel my loneliness.