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in their hands. As a result they are much more lenient with him, hit him a few times and let him go. The other thief is more stoic. He is pulled into one of the darker areas, pummeled and hit by several muscular dude walkers, circled by the crowd. He is released in a little, shrinking into the dark, someone comes from the group with his clothes: a t-shirt and shorts. The men loosen - the focus of attention gone, being to discuss the event. When out of air comes a brick thrown from a roof. It scrapes across the chest of one man and hits another on the leg. If it had landed on someone's head it could have killed them. It was as if out of nowhere. No one saw it, people standing nearby did not realize it had had happened. Consternation, the man whose leg is hit twists in pain. It is difficult to tell where the brick was thrown from. A search is made of one roof but people are leaving from many roofs, it could have come from any place. A friend of the thieves? An enemy at any rate. Through all of this the men never lose control, they never have the look of hate in their eyes. Even though they beat the thieves, it was not excessive and both of them walked away. They handled them almost gently. A quality of mercy, of humanism prevails. It is because the mob realizes,

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senses, the thieves are not too different from themselves. Or is it just a passing mood of this night in particular.

Boy, 22, down my lane tells me Indians can't eat eggs in the summertime because it causes them to be sexually stimulated, and it would not be right, for you must keep sex under control. Drinks 4 half cups of tea each day says if he drinks more he has bad dreams. Believes communism the answer for India.

May 11, 70 quote from Samuel Beckett

Often now my murmur falters and dies and I weep for happiness as I go along and for love of this old earth that has carried me so long and whose uncomplainingness will soon be mine.

You must say words, as long as there are any, until they find me, until they say me, strange pain, strange sin . . . Perhaps they have said me already, perhaps they have carried me to the threshold of my old story . . .Where I am, I don't know, I'll never know, in the silence you don't know, you must go on, I can't go on, I'll go on.

"In burlesque you've got to leave 'em hungry for more. You don't just dump the whole roast on the platter." - Gypsy Rose Lee