I got confused tonight and am worried about my mental health, as usual. Do you think I need another hysterectomy? There were a lot of people and the aether got out of whack, but I think most of it was just me. Even after everyone left and I went outside, the aether was so thick I could barely walk.
I don't know what was talked about. I think the emperor of Steeltopia paid ransom to the evil corporation that had exiled him and retook his throne, but you probably already read that in the newspapers.
There were so many people about I could not keep track of what was going on. I even fell off The Grid a few times. When I wasn't falling off the ground, apparitions of you were talking to me. I don't think I had been up past bedtime lately, so I don't know why. I tried my best not to acknowledge the mirages in front of so many people. It was disturbingly easy to not acknowledge anything at all, in fact. I sort of checked out of reality. I am not proud of this and am standing in the corner in repentance, if that helps any. (I know it likely doesn't.)
I'm unsure of the things I saw other than you, but that's normal for the Steamlands. Someone I knew appeared as beams of light, then reverted to her normal self. Someone else I barely knew but recognized as a Person of Importance appeared as a talking kitten. (She clawed on Valdy's bar. Just because she's one of the city's founders or something doesn't mean she should be allowed to hurt people's private property! I really, really wanted to stop her, but she's said to be Important and also rather dangerous. I felt quite helpless. Now I'm going to be one of the only ones who knows where those claw marks came from, and either I'll have to keep it a secret or confess my cowardice. I'm such a fool.)
It was also another one of those times when everybody poofs away before I have a chance to say goodbye.
When I got the chance, I tried to get to Shanghai to see if Valdy was out working, but with the condition of the aether, it was a long and exhausting journey just to get here. Finding her is out of the question. I'm presently near a warehouse and will probably go to sleep in it as soon as I finish writing. I don't think it's a a minty-spice warehouse. It smells like fish and death and fish afflicted with death. I wonder if I can get some paid work and buy a fish sandwich sometime, or else learn to cook mimmoths. There's a mimmoth staring at me right now, plotting my doom. I would kill it if the aether weren't so thick. I could use its pelt to make a new pair of boots. I hope it doesn't carry out its doom-plots while I sleep.
I don't even know why I'm writing this. I have nothing to say, and Squeezy is saying distressing things to me. My mind needs a rest.
No, I still can't go back to Boston or anywhere in Massachusetts. I'm not leaving here. I'm sorry.
Shaqad
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