Sunday, Jul. 13, 2003 - 8:50 p.m.

I am sick, I feel sick, and yet there is nothing to be done. I woke up this morning and began to shake violently. Although this is quite mild, as far as 'consequences of multiple sclerosis' go, any good that I felt on Friday (during which I was illuminated by The Tempest for a few hours) has dissipated suddenly.

The Tempest was too often played for laughs, I am losing fitness at an unseemly rate, I have no close friends, and this day's two best pieces of news, that my brother is coming to visit and that Hamlet will be played here in October, would barely register on the radar of other, saner, individuals.

On the other hand, twice today I've had my beliefs confirmed and reinforced. So all is not lost.

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