January 8, 1991.

Wayne, my old boyfriend, commes to see me. Strangely enough, he
is so frail-looking. I've never seen him that way before. He
stands straight and wears a weird suit, shirt and pants that
match. He looks like a prepubescent kid. There is nothing
attractive about him when in fact, he was quite an attractive
teenager and man. I am drinking scotch and seeing him so frail
makes me feel even stronger but I do feel a lot of compassion for
him. I ask how his new baby is. I am just looking for things to
say, to try and make converation. He looks pained and laughs
bitterly. My wife didn't even give the baby my last name, he
says. Apparently, his wife had given the babu the family name
"Cindy", which isn't even a last name. It wasn't clear whether
or not she'd had the baby with Wayne or not. From what I
understood, she may have given the baby a female name just to
give the baby a woman's streght. It had nothing to do with
hurting Wayne.

It surprises me to see Wayne so despondent. He is close to bieng
destroyed. It gives me a strange feeling. I don't pity him. I
just think it strange how life can be.

I, who always felt weak and frail, now feel strong and full of
energy.


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