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January 20, 2002
Sitting above at brunch - a sneer room of sorts - jazz echoing from the trio below, fresh seafood in my soup, I am happy. Perhaps it's a blissed-out, spiritual hangover from an evening of dark chocolate, good food and cider, laugher with Spil and having so many men flirt with me, talk with me, dance with me, that I am indisputably Queen of Gotham / Gotham Muse. Though I am ready to drop from exhaustion, I feel alive.
Without even realizing what I am about myself, I ask West about Eric - every opportunity is to be taken - and render him speechless.