I finally learned to contain myself sometime in the late 1990's. Before that I was all over the place. I had a nose for things and a thing for noses, among other things. I cocked one ear, I pricked both. You should've seen me back then, you'd've said "where are you." I let my fingers do the walking but it took too long to get downtown. I didn't pull myself together until I learned to contain myself, on a memorable Monday in the late 1990's or thereabouts. My show was on, is how I remember. I don't remember what show but I do remember remembering that show, whatever it was, a show I really liked. Then I was like a cartridge within myself, something that snaps into position, do you know the satisfying snap of self-containment? I like the spiral spring in a battery compartment. I want one of those in my coffin. I contained myself but not at all like a refrigerator contains a light or like a gun contains a bullet. I never left myself (a promise is a promise) or exceeded myself once I contained myself, much less expelled myself with deadly force, except for once when I vomited on a banquette and a little on the floor. More like, the way you learn to like a cramped room because what's the alternative? "This is actually kind of fun!" That sort of thing. Or like, did you ever stand there eating some drippy thing fast because you brought it home from the store but it wouldn't fit in your totally iced-over freezer? I stood there licking things that didn't fit until I was completely licked.