so is it pronounced mikal like the russion or me-shell like the french?

Today I’m to see my lawyer. I wish I’d known that when I went to bed. Bless the three hour time difference, else I might have gone to bed even later. 9 a.m. I was to be there, he called at 9:40 asking after me. We’ve re-scheduled for 2 this afternoon. I’m going to soak myself in heat and hope I can properly walk by noon. It would not bode well to be crippling my way into his office. It would be bad news indeed.

My settlement is on Thursday.

He said to bring my file, but I don’t think I have one. Receipts, he said, but for what? I can’t think of any accident related that weren’t my cane and he has that one. I feel like hanging my head in uselessness. Almost three years and I don’t know what to do. I have no file, I have nothing but his letters. I want to call Bill for help and solace, but I don’t know if I dare invade his life. He (angrily? I do not know) vanishes when I take a lover, but perhaps it’s alright now they’re all away again. As I was discussing with both Michel and Jay last night, people usually aren’t quite real when they’re far away. They’re made of idea and concept, not so much flesh. Michel had an interesting observation, how it’s very catholic, part of the ultimate separation of soul and the body carrier. Perhaps that can count as my contextual loophole, they are real to me, but less so to him. Names only, possibly I can make them matter less than myself so that he’ll talk with me. I miss him.

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