February 7, 2020:

Hamburger, some sort of cream sauce, like salad dressing or tartar. Ruined. Although I try to force a bite it makes me gag.

"You're not going to embarrass yourself in front of your friend?" The adults are from the Ozarks and this is their version of sophisticated child rearing. My friend is pretty and I'm not so much embarrassed as humiliated.

There's archery, although I can barely pull the string half way. Fishing, which bores me. There's loneliness, and futility, and sleeplessness on the couch portion of their camper shell. I'm very sad. Because my mother is ill, because I can no longer face my pretty friend, because my pretty friend was the one source of contact.

It's the Salton Sea and this is maybe 1961 or 2.