Drawn outside earlier by more resonant movning foghorn blasts, I know an oil carrier was moving toward port, working his way along, revealing his place visually by the dark smoke trailing along above the fog. As I sat reading, the fog approached me - at intervals. I looked to see it coming closer & I thot to stay, welcoming the prospect of being enveloped by fog - then glancing up another moment from my book - Charlotte Bronte's excellent biog. by Gurin - I was both pleased & disappointed to see the fog had gone except in the far southern distance, melted away by the sun which now gave us its friendship from welcome blue skies. Now, later, I'm back & I see the opposite shore is again hidden behind a soft grey wall & still the fog horns blow - higher tone and farther from Two Harbors, deeper from ships on the lake.
I have had further proof this weekend, if such were needed, that loneliness, aloneness, can bring on a sickness, a malaise, quite real. I felt lightly ill with it this morning, enjoying doing what I alone wished tho all the while feeling un-right & unnatural about it - unmoved, apart, not entirely healthily human. It was only after simple contact with 2 women in 2 gift shops that I felt right again, whole & healthy, part of normalcy, one with humankind.
I have another blasted insect bite up under the hairline causing my whole right temple to swell into a hard lump & my upper & lower eyelids on that side to fill with fluid, to puff & hoop increasingly. It is as all my life a reaction most noisome.
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