In the mail yesterday I received information about the impending legal matter in my life, which came as a result of February 3rd. I'm charged with assault, and face the prospect of a jury trial to start in November. The public defender told me that wouldn't happen, and probation seems likely. It's odd, though, as I admit my guilt. I'll admit it to anyone who will listen. But the legal process is slow and byzantine; we've already had 4 continuances.
The letter is a proposition to the ADA, a disposition. It's well-written and provides an accurate picture. When I read it, I noticed how strangely detached I am from all this. It wouldn't surprise me if they put me in jail for decades. Nor would it if they just forgot about it. As if it is happening to another.
Nancy has been wonderful for me, and one hopes that she is as happy as I. She says she is, and I'll take it. I'm fond of the poetry of Vonnegut's das Reich du Zwei, the Nation of Two, from Mother Night. But methinks it more accurate to say that we are refugees hiding from people. A refugee camp of two. This is because, for whatever reason, we are "mentally ill," and it makes it difficult to interact with other humans. We may end up driving each other really crazy, or crazier, in time. But for now, all are happy and at peace at The House of Four Cats. We each have someone with whom we empathize.
And I do so love her. Our little flat is filled with sunshine and the windows let cool breezes pass inside. Very lovely for refugees.