2002-09-13 - 11:54 p.m.

I have been crabby all week, snapping at the boyfriend and pushing him away. Having trouble getting up in the morning, drinking way too much coffee, and I know it all stems from not taking care of me, me first.

I need to start being NICER to me. I don't know how it happens, that I fall out of it. How the first thing to go are the things that make me feel good, and healthy, and strong. Long ingrained self destruction, I suppose. But tomorrow's the end of it. Dammit. Tonight, actually. We went to dinner at our usual neighborhood Italian, and then he went to read in the bedroom, I went in for a visit, and then he went to sleep and I am getting some much, much needed alone time. I've been writing for hours, in my notebook. I broke out B1rd by B1rd, and started doing some writing exercises. And really, it feels like a big sigh. In a good way.

Last night we went to the Fri@rs Club, which was a debacle of major proportions. It's a private club, with membership mostly made up of Jewish (seriously, all but ONE member is Jewish) comedians and entertainers, many of the borscht belt variety. And although the club itself is incredibly beautiful, the crowd, oy. At one point the boyfriend leaned over and whispered, "Look over by the door. It's a whole row of old women who look like B@by J@ne. And they did, too. Garish makeup and way, way too much plastic surgery. Beautifully frosted and coiffed blondes in clothing too young for them, walked by looking like the tips of their noses had been chewed off. Women in expensive suits with big, dramatic hats, and a hippie sex therapist with a velvet robe. It's supposed to be, to some degree, a big deal, the Fri@rs Club, with the roasts and all. But I gotta tell you, there were some scary characters in that place.

I really wanted to write some more, but I have to go to bed now. Spending the weekend in the city (yay!), so I'll be back.

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