This is terrible, waiting for the train. Every morning I’m consumed with anxiety and frustration. Ten minutes I’ve been waiting here at Greenpoint Ave, stomach getting acidic, neck hurting like hell. Hurt my neck last night sucking on stage at the comedy club. Got off stage in the middle of a joke, that’s how discouraged I was.

Pardon me while I spit in your minimum. Is everybody drinking their minimum? There is a minimum drunk you have to be to think this is funny. Honey, you’re plowed; you can stop. This is tomorrow morning, talking to you tonight. Stop now.

Falling asleep last night, Ted told me his shell gets harder and harder. I told him how Judith said I didn't need my protective devices anymore. I wish there were more truth and realness between us. We're still playing roles.

Reading over some old notebooks last night. Funny how detached I felt from the anguished entries of April and May, not even horrified. One thing I'm happy about is they sound strong. I hate the parts that are explain-y and weak. Parts of them are really fierce and angry, and now that I'm more accepting of that anger, it's easier to feel.

Tonight is is my last performance. I can't give anymore. I'm old and I'm tired and I've fucked everybody already anyway.

Felt angry and miserable leaving Judith’s office, annoyed by her. “Well, you have to pay your dues.” Fuck off, fuck her, fuck that, I've paid plenty of dues, fuck everybody. I guess the guy bagging coffee at Manhattan Deli hates his job too.

Last night was the work team dinner and I had to bolt right after eating. First one up and gone, though I was having a good time. One, Ted was waiting for me at my place. Two, I was getting a little too free and loud, and didn’t trust myself not to start trouble.

Ted came back early and is picking me up to see a movie at Chris Lee's house. Even though I said I had planned a few hours of work. It was quote-unquote my decision to say yes, but he sounded so crushed by the idea of me not coming over until after the movie. And I understand that very well.

Slept alone and long.

Got a letter from Jackson last night, which was a surprise. He misses me in his life, he wants to be friends again. HA. HA HA HA HA HA. Didn’t exactly apologize though. Gratified by the letter, I win. I win.

Don't want to be writing down my thoughts, be confronted by the moment to moment weirdness of them.  Don't feel like writing down dreams.