Yasnaya Polyana 5/12/70 / Dear Bill, / […] And if my letter seems unfeeling, please let me tell you why I am in mine anaesthetic stage. A student-type turned up yestiddy, to interview me. (In view of my notorious prowess as a rapist, she brought a girl-friend along to protect her.) I yiped for three hours—and bejeez, I slept all night sans pillulation. But when I did get up, I was beside myself. It was horrible—for now I had lost Libbie, the house, and myself. I usually talk to myself, but now I heard myself talking to myself (and there’s one hell of a difference). I think I have figured it all out. And now, after about five hours of effort, I think I am at least on the slope of the subpersonality that I think of as really me. But I had to use some alky as a bridge towards the way back. To cut a lot of corners, I think the tangle turned up thus: My intervieweress was so clearly a student-type, I talked to her as with a student at Bennington, or someone else along the academic circuit. […] / Sincerely, / K.B.

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a scabbarded sword

Yes, it's time to take back are country and finally expand and improve our education system.