A perfect catch-22. That was why I walked through the broken glass. Ezekiel says, "Are you so worried about your soul you will run out into the traffic too?" He’s quite the joker. Pleasures are pleasures are pleasures. Do I have to give up coffee and cigarettes? And good food and good sleep? This is my neurosis. But Ezekiel says to me, "God’s patience is incredible. Do not try to save your soul on one day or one night; you have the rest of your life to work all this out, and if you make some error in this life it will not be too late to correct it." He is mentioning this as we are drinking beer with the bums by the Albertson’s. When Charlie shows up I ask Ezekiel more questions, but he only says, "You think the Broncos will make it to the playoffs? They haven’t been able to get it together since Elway left." "If he would have stayed one more year," says Charlie, "they might have been the first team to win three Superbowls in a row." Charlie has no idea what Ezekiel and I have been talking about, what is consuming me. I can’t believe Ezekiel is talking about sports after revealing such grave things to me. Once, I sat down with no idea, no plan, absolutely nothing in my mind to write; and I picked up a little notebook and wrote, "Broken lives are a newness unto themselves," and wrote a whole novel. I hardly ever shower so I stink. I go days without brushing my teeth, so they are brown and dirty. I don’t know why I live like this, but I am content. I haven’t so much as kissed another human being in over nine years. I am reduced to being a disgusting, lonesome creature: and I am happy.