2001-05-08 - 12:33 p.m.

Anyway, on Sunday I went out for brunch with some people I haven't seen in a long, long time. It was nice to see them, and I reconnected with a girl I haven't seen ages, who lives in my neighborhood. I was initially hopeful that this might be a local girlfriend, which I desperately need. If I can get past her constant updates on the state of her singleness, maybe we can hang out. But probably not - that incessant man-hunting leaves me cold. I ended up getting home around 5, getting my nails done, then meeting my friend Deb at Pastis for oysters, artichokes, and mojitos. While sitting at the bar, a guy came in and was greeted warmly, with much back-slapping and hand-shaking, by the bartenders. They let us know that he had survived FALLING ON THE TRACKS OF THE SUBWAY, where the train went right over him and he emerged without a scratch. We look at him, incredulous, and he smiles and nods his head. We go, "WHAT HAPPENED?" And he continues to smile and nod. So after we get a translator (guy speaks no English) we get the story. Now in the meantime, we are making up all these dramatic stories in our heads. Turns out, though, that he was piss-drunk, and doesn't remember what happened. Damn, how anticlimatic. If that was me I'd at least make up some good story, rather than admitting I was wasted and fell on the tracks. Here we were making him a hero, and really he was just a run-of-the-mill degenerate. Sad, I tell you.

My boyfriend returned last night from his hard-core weekend in New Orleans. He was dog-tired, as he is also too old to be staying out until 6a.m, even though he won't admit it. I got home from dinner with my girlfriend Red (in from Florida) and found him sitting on my couch, reading the paper and trying to stay awake. I fed him, got him Tylenol, made him tea, and put him to bed at 10pm. So sweet, I am. Heh. Right before he fell asleep: " I love this doting." To which I am compelled to reply, "Don't get used to it. It's for special occasions only." It would get annoying after a while, if you ask me.

I've been sort of uninspired to write this past week or so. I never wanted this to become a laundry list of the things I do, I wanted it to be more about how I feel, or what I see. Don't get me wrong, I am ADDICTED to a few journals that list every single item purchased at their trip to Wal-Mart that day, but I never planned for this to become one. And then I'll stumble across a really amazing writer, like Byrne at one way don't walk, and I'll become paralyzed with self-doubt. It'll pass, though. One of these days.

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