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Monday 31 October

On my train to Rome; [. . .]

Woke up three times last night: at 430, at 7, and finally at 945. At seven I woke up so I could remember a dream [. . .]

Another dream, a few days back: a fragment rather: I ate my own heart, which was the size of a chicken heart, and expected to die by doing so, but a few seconds passed and I didn't die —

I'm sitting in the smokers' car, having chosen it intentionally at Terni. The girl kittycorner from me is smoking — it's all right — not great, but all right.

Grocery store this morning after my shower but before breakfast (I needed milk for my coffee) — store was packed, in preparation for tomorrow All Saints a holiday: maybe 15 people in the tiny shop all cackling away — [. . .]

I went for a walk down into the Suburra, across almost to the Coliseum via the v. Cardello, up the Fagutal of which dim memories of antiquity — looks like the restaurant in the v. Cardello may be quite good — for once, not one word in any foreign language; place tucked away and menu seemed earthier — and at 3:30 P.M. at Danza Bazaar, v. Cavour 93 (angolo v. S.M. Maggiore 122/123), Metrò Cavour, tel. 487.4598, fax 481.9178; which was the aim of the walk, since they only open at 3:30; in fact they were running late — anyhow I tried on the (very comfortable) thing they tried to sell me the other day, since I'm now wearing my tights, and sure enough, too short. They tried to sell me various other things (no sleeves; an elastic cummerbund to cover the difference; a woman's thing with a sort of tie-on sash in a horrible multicolor) but I stuck to my guns, and finally they will ask about ordering a lycra top that extends about 3″ lower, which would be perfect; they need to see price and availability by NLT 16 Nov since I leave the next day — my saleswoman was Chiara; the 3 colors I may be ordering 2 of apiece are an aqua 24, a blue 22 and a red 16.

Dashed out of the store at one minute to four, got to the station at 4:04 and on my train by a bit past 4:08 — a fast walk — looking forward to my skate, sort of hoping that Giampiero's forgotten me, feel like a free skate: but do need a lesson —

Termini again after my skate. My train was suppressed, in fine print on the schedule alright, the day before holidays — I should have checked — so I'm now sitting on train to Florence, the idea being to get off at Orte, change for Terni if possible, if not get on the next train to Florence, which does stop at Terni: unfortunately at 2245 thus no bus; in this miserable exercise I wound up with another young man, Italian, also going to Todi, who did most of the talking when we inquired of the Florence train controller, but who is being met at Terni by a girlfriend — I will probably throw myself on their mercy and help pay for the gas? If not, presumably the choice is between a hotel and a cab at Terni, about the same price I guess — and by good fortune I'm carrying the cash, I don't usually carry 180 ML — [. . .]

My skate turned out exactly as I wanted: there was a very large crowd due to its being the day before a holiday, and Giampiero, though there and ready to conduct a lesson, suggested we not, since traffic would be just too much to handle. I agreed and thanked him and went off and did my usual free skate: the only new thing was I jumped (two feet together) a few times, question of confidence and leaving the ice. The back crossovers seem a bit more solid — Still, when I get back to Chicago, I'm going to get my coach to get something — anything — new out of me so I don't get bored; I need encouragement.

Listening to my body right now: I have a sort of muscle ache on the top of each foot, I think from walking in deteriorating sneakers; the bursitis on my left heel, which is uncomfortable especially when I'm in my skates on dry land; slight muscle ache in both forearms; very slight sore throat; noticeable sciatic-type pain in my left thigh — and that's about it.

I weighed 79 = 174 on waking up this morning; ate a persimmon and maybe 100g of almond bread with 2 cups of coffee, 2 yogurts for breakfast; a slice of torta ai pinoli at the rink before skating; a Gatorade during; and only a cappuccino after. Hungry, a bit.

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