I kept a lot of company this weekend. g visited and watched me drink glasses of wine while they talked of their newfound mental stability and love for themselves which they’ve worked so hard to achieve and then cultivate. I spoke drunkenly of my sheer lack, my poor self esteem and insecurity and pits of depression. The contrast was stark and funny and not rubbed in. I’m outside of Molasses. Ten minutes ago I sat here with s in the same metal chairs leaning against the same piece of plywood attached to the same rusty stand. He smoked a cigarette and I watched him. I’m not sure what we talked about. I walked him to the L afterward.

Saturday g and I parked on a bench outside of casa maya and talked to a girl on molly for hours who moved like a dancer and turned out to be one. The bouncer told us about his cats. A beautiful Russian girl asked me for a cigarette and cried when I gave one to her. She promised to invite me to a party and handed her Modelo over in exchange for my kindness. The dancer now off molly crashed on the floor of my bedroom. When I caught up with s the next day and told him all of this he seemed impressed. Men love women without direction because they are free to fall into their arms. Prime wife real estate. This made me loathe my ambiguous positioning all the more.

I will never wear jorts and Hanes tank tops again because there are too many people doing the same. I will, though, keep smoking cigarettes outside of cafes. I have a big bruise on my leg that's growing bigger. Now I am home and the dog whines because I’m washing my sheets and won’t let her on the bed. The dishwasher, washer, and dryer try to drown her out. I will surely let her on soon.