100607 My inspiration’s gone because I can’t smoke in here. It’s a nice den, but I could really use some smoke. I was thinking about sitting here typing about my, you know, feelings, but so far I can’t seem to convince myself to give myself permission to do that. And why is that, do you think? Because you’re trying to act all grown up? Fuck if I know. Poor defense. Sorry. Don’t apologize to me. Okay, I won’t. S—. Okay. [Insert Smoke Here] She hasn’t emailed me. I haven’t changed.* I love women too much to be a fag. *Yes I have. A little. That counts. Time to hit the road? I’m of course blasted, devastated, desolate, ravaged, ruined, and wasted because she’s not coming out to dinner. No doubt the many-headed hydra stopped her in her trax. Well, I can’t assume that’s against her will. SO is it time to go to work? It’s time to go to work. Goodnight. Alcohol, smoke, and words. Still the best package deal I know. 100707 Declaring service & submission to “God” is a way of sidestepping the embarassingly sensual & vulnerable truth of service & submission to other ordinary people. God you can’t touch; people you must. 100907 You make promises. You make compromises with yourself. 101607 If you can squiffle the guilt, you can unwrap another present.