Stepping Out

Linda has invited me to the Big Apple Circus later this week. It should be fun, and I need to get out of my flat a little more often. My instinct, given my current bout of depression and paranoia, is to stay here and leave the apartment as little as possible. But that leads to cutting and banging my head against the wall and watching "Blade" for the 10th time. Not that I don't get out and do things. Besides visiting my father in hospital, I've also washed the car, fed some geese, picked up some trash in the courtyard outside, ran all sorts of errands and even went to watch some of a little league baseball game. With the warm weather, I do some reading outside, as well. Eric Chester, a former comrade of mine in the Socialist Party of Massachusetts, also writes non-fiction. I finished his Socialists and the Ballot Box late last night, under the light of the streetlamp that shines on my front stoop. Does that count as "going out?"