Atlantic City

A has breen saying it all along, it's all in my head. He knows as J did this to him, left himdangling by a thread. I cannot be bothered with someone so horrible, long nose from years of looking down on everyone.

I think he is very, very sad. And, really, a complete stranger.

We went out to the casinos today and it strikes me how sad this scene really is. The cheap music, filling the air with empty promises and glamour to spare. The cocktail waitress had on clothes that disn't fit and an eye that looked to the side. A gypsy woman came over to me and grabbed my
palm.

"You worry too much." she tells me, completely unannounced.

We are supposed to go out, something, that, in recent weeks has lost its allure. Standing around, everyone being something they aren't, it just bores me to see. I hate the thought of not getting home, and I'm missing Sher.

I dressing up and doing my hair as we are in Jerz. I look pretty, I guess. I feel so full, so huge, so inflated after all the eggplant we ate. I had nothing but sugar all morning. N is flattening her hair. L is glittering away in a dress of sequins.

Knowing that A went through this makes it worth it. He got beyond it. It gets to this, burnt out and unyielding, and then, one day, S came along and changed it all. I don't need a savoir, I need a reason to get off this bed and not wish I were home. I need a new project, a new purpose. I wish, a lot of times as of late, the world would just accept me as is. Everyone wants me to "find a man." is that really all there is? I used to feel stifled. I'm proud of the things I've done. Maybe they should be too. It just feels so desperate, so contrived. You meet a man at the bar and he is supposed to be your eerything. That man is nothing. That man is months of pointless self-introspect. That man is just another reason to feel silly. That mannisn't the golden ticket, just the ride in the broken elevator.

N, I wish I could just let things happen around you. I'm exhausted of running after something I'm not even sure I want.

I see women feeding men, taking their plates to them and cleaning the pots they used to prepare the meal. That scares me.

What's wrong with eating it yourself?

I'm not giving in.