Sappho is dead.
I really think I would have
liked to meet her, though some
of her thoughts terrify me.
Freud is too filled with
guilt over sexuality, and I
already grew up with a Jewish mother
and a Catholic father who
kept Mary at the neighbors
out of respect for Mom.
Renee says I would love
the blanketing comfort of Jung,
and he does seem to embody
all that I ever believed in,
but now I wonder if
some of my beliefs are wrong,
and my search for happiness
has been futile.
So, I began reading Nietzche.
David said it was "cool"
to believe in Nietzche, though I
admitted I wasn't ready
to commit yet, and he said
I should read a Carla somebody,
in that case, and I promised
him that I would look her up.
