What a shitty night's sleep last night. Sick and interrupted. Read over some books yesterday and saw again how I push myself beyond reason, beyond reality. How much easier it would be just to sit with myself. A million resolutions.

So, I'm here in this house in Upstate New York with like twelve to fifteen other people, the majority of whom I don't know. The room we were going to sleep in is infested with ladybugs, which was great, so long as it was light. But when they started landing on me in the dark, I got squeamish as hell. Was told by Ted's friend Rich it was bourgeois of me to react so violently to bugs.

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.