Still haven't worked since I left my career job. Bohemia isn't paying as much as it feels it should. But I need more time to keep writing. So I applied for a job today. Like the other job I applied for months ago, I was given that "overqualified" look. Haven't ejaculated for two days. That isn't much, but as of late it is certainly notable. A Shania Twain video even looked appealing today. The two days have been intentional. L.M. says it's better to deprive. She's right, but like this, I risk becoming sexually dormant. Probably why I'm writing today.

A trip to LA today was only salvaged by L.M. introducing and treating me to Ethiopian food. L.M. became withdrawn and saddened by the music. To my ear it was still only exotic, so I lacked her interpretive ability. At Open Studios I planned on showing some of my paintings. Then, last minute, I was asked to display at an after-party. Other works in the Artist’s Village tonight made me embarrassed, making my own display later feel ridiculous. At the party I saw Melanie W. My esteem these days has been too low to want to see someone from college.

Saw a terrible film with April Fischer today. We didn’t say much after. Just split in the parking lot and drove away. Didn’t write today, except for this entry and an idea written down on a bookmark during the movie. Picked up the paintings from last night. Getting worried because I have been feeling a little directionless, most likely because I don’t feel motivated by what I am currently working on. That’s why the other ideas that come seem so appealing. As ideas they are more exciting than what I need to keep trodding along with. A dull entry today.

These entries are showing me not to look for monumental occurrences on a day to day basis. They don’t always happen. And that’s no reason to feel insignificant. What did happen today, was I walked outside and felt a draft, and only realized when on the roof of my parking structure that my zipper was down and the underwear I was wearing was not button-flyed. I took LM to the hospital today to see her friend’s newborn. I wish I could’ve seen her holding the baby—wrapped in maternal imagery, just to behold momentarily, but I didn’t know the parents.

Finished “The Unbearable Lightness of Being”; began “Our Lady of the Flowers”. Today I walked a dog by myself, and realized it’s good to have dogs. It feels healthy. Makes me walk. I’m alert on another level as I observe her interests. Beyond that, it recalled daydreaming in a manner I had forgotten. How I daydreamed before I left for college. Maybe not more involved dreaming, but certainly less self-aware. Very good things in walking a dog. Seems like letting go of ego, always asserting myself as a cat person. Worse, it feels fatefully absurd, having become allergic to everything.

Wrote the pre-sex-scene for my filmscript today. L.M. taught me to play Taipei. Didn't go outside except to walk a dog. Allergies tonight have been horrendous. I feel unconcerned with worry today, which is likely why my allergies are they way they are tonight. I didn't care about playing with the dog any more than I did about finding a job, and the dog loved me for it. My writing feels stronger that it has lately, and I long to paint. I feel detached from my friends though. They feel resigned to the background. Some of them even bother me.

L.M. and I had another fight today. In typical form, a small issue quickly escalated into heightened importance and branched into multiple directions. Details are unimportant here. Much of the remainder of my day was spent in sleep, and when awake it felt like I was wearing sleeping shades. Hours passed, my motivations waned, in a book the same paragraph was read again and again. We haven't come to terms, finished our conversations, put anything to rest, but we've come far enough over these past months to know it still means so much to lie side by side at night.

L.M. and I almost broke up again today. The feelings I was overcome with when I opened my eyes, stayed with me through the morning and afternoon, limiting my confidence in our relationship, so when she moved to the subject of our separation, it did not feel surprising. L.M. expressed similar feelings. Somehow we stayed together. We care too much about each other and ourselves to allow us to be apart. Compassion held us together long enough to find ways to step around things if not forward. On days like these between us, not much else has room to happen.

Today with L.M. was not the easiest it has ever been, but we shared it nonetheless and made it through till the tomorrow. Had breakfast with Casey and Paul this morning. Hadn't seen Paul for weeks and Casey not for months. I feel detached from friends more and more as my trial of being at the Spurgeon continues. I think much of it is meant to feel that way as I'm stuck feeling my friends continuing to move along, closer toward the direction I was headed in less than a year ago, before jumping off into reckless abandon of it.

These entries have made my relationship with L.M. look so horrible. I suppose it is my fault: actively in the relationship, for choosing to relate so much of it here, as well as the unskilled and tactless sentences conveying it. In all reality, today's transcript wouldn't read much prettier. But fuck it. L.M. has repeatedly told me to try something different. I dream about her smile—the way her cheeks move and how her eyes look pacific when she smiles. I wonder if she knows how easily she can reduce everything in the world to me just being with her.

At a job interview today, someone finally took me seriously. I got the job I sought. So I'm going from Accounting Manager to Parking-Lot-Booth-Attendant. They even encouraged me to read in the booth. I may even be able to bring my notebook and write in between the arm going up and down. I will know people coming through this particular lot. I expect them to laugh at me. I applied to be a 411 operator as well. L.M. finally called me back today, before midnight. She doesn't sound too confident in us. Often it makes me more frustrated than sad.

I turned down the job I was offered yesterday. Not enough hours, is what I said. To complete the reason, the location would’ve put me in repeated contact with people from my old work, and I didn’t want to face it. I spent much of the day with L.M. We didn’t enjoy the movie we had waited to see. I got sick later in the day. But overall, it was a very creative day for me. Two scenes and a poem that was better in my head than how it came out on paper. But I it got written down.

Spent the day virtually inactive today. I believe now, that I have a flu, not food poisoning. Even my eyes hurt. But ultimately, it certainly isn’t the worse flu I’ve ever experienced. My illness is what kept me from seeing L.M. today. I hope to be better tomorrow so we may see each other, but as the day has gone on, I feel like I have been getting worse. Can’t digest much, but I’ve been craving pasta. At the end of this, I imagine I will lose weight that I will quickly gain back. This illness made me lazy today.

I became preoccupied with finances again today. Like most other days it passed. It feels intense in the moment, but oddly what makes it go away is thinking about what has put me in this position in the first place: my writing. But the remedy is not thinking about the writing I know I need to focus on—the type of writing I feel will make me money, rather the things that I am writing or things I want to write when I feel freed by the reduced concern of a projected audience. I’m still as sick today as yesterday.

How uneventful these days are. I’m sick again today, and have done very little but rest. What a repetitive and polarized month this must appear to be—only ill or amidst relationship problems. L.M. and I finally spoke on the phone today for a significant period of time, at least when added up in between my trips to the bathroom. Ate linguini alla vongole tonight. With my current ailment, I shouldn’t have, but it’s a favorite, and at this point, I figure the symptoms will be existent regardless of my diet. I’ve been sleeping excessively, but I don’t feel depressed.

I’ve finally felt recovered from my recent illness today. Still the day mostly involved more attempts at rest. In the evening I went out with L.M., as we have not seen each other in many days. We went to see Le Divorce. Characters were more complex than I expected they would be. I thought after that, I would go to the Spurgeon for the night, but before I left, I realized the most profound symptom I displayed had not completely passed, and I had to therefore retreat back to Irvine where it is much easier for me to be sick.

Saw two films today. One in the morning, another at night. L.M.’s enthusiasm for film reminds me to see more of them. After a recent string of wasted admissions, the past two days have given us a pretty good streak—Le Divorce, And Now Ladies and Gentlemen, and finally The Magdalene Sisters. I can’t remember the last time I felt so shocked by a film, as I did last night…I think it the best film I’ve seen all year. Set a goal today, for next week, to meet daily page count quotas in order to finish my filmscript by Saturday.

L.M. came to the Spurgeon tonight for the first time in what feels like a very long time. The cactus I bought her got knocked over. We played a game in which she had to identify everyday sounds I recorded on a microcassette. She correctly answered much more than I expected. I found out some piece of shit phone company switched me to their long distance service without my consent. After having been sick for so long, I had to reacquaint myself with being able to sleep at the Spurgeon. And I didn’t do very well with my goal today.

This filmscript goal of mine is tougher than I expected. It originally calculated to eleven pages a day; today I completed seven. More than five pages a day is difficult. The playwright competition last month smartly asked for no more than that. Began writing a poem entitled “Exotic”. For the first time in years, today I grabbed a baseball bat and sped off in my car. Mars spins closer to Earth than it has for thousands of years. Seen bright with the naked eye. Sometimes I’ve felt unluckily placed in an uneventful generation—but now Mars, on top of 9/11.

I got offered a job today. Meet with them tomorrow. Different plans kept L.M. and I from seeing each other yesterday and today. I felt distanced but accepted it—she's starting school soon; I was trying to finish my script. But her reaction. I told her it feels like she crumples everything up and throws it in the trash. Tonight she was going to see me only after her other plans fell through. Combined with my own neuroses, why do the shortcomings of our interactions surprise me? Knowing she was diagnosed as borderline, what behaviorist would feel sorry for me?

More drama happened after I made my previous entry—fought in a parking lot. It happened again tonight in another parking lot. Outside of the coffee house we first met at after we moved back down to SoCal. I was awful. She was awful. I was awful to her. The consequences are great. My emotions are all over the place, swinging like a pendulum allowed on three planes. I'm relieved and depressed and scared. I walked away from her and regretted it. I didn't want to detach, I wanted to flee, but tonight they meant the same thing.

Depressed today. I'm highly inactive but cannot sleep. I can tell I'm going to clam up. I need to stay away from people, especially from those who matter to me most. I think my emotions are written all over my face. I've lost her again. Not only does she tell me I don't deserve her, but questions who out there would ever deserve to be subjected to me. It's beyond terrible feeling less than worthless from those you love. I've been collecting things that I must return to her. I think I'll give her the paintings she wanted as well.

Went downtown with Gaudette tonight. It was festive and seedy. Whores abound. I ate ice-cream and had to use a bathroom claimed by homeless. Sold a painting today. I've been wanting to speak with Vera, but I know I must wait for her to call and talk for however many minutes she allows before rushing to hang-up. Amirah dreamed she visited me in my old office. I was disguised through a variety of features resembling my ex-girlfriends. L.M. hasn't called or written. My nephew watched a film I enjoyed when I was younger—pathetic, I grieved through its happy scenes.

I haven't been listening to music in the car lately. Without it, I can really dwell when I drive. But this morning, I decided to turn on the radio and the station was playing a very particular song by The Supremes that could only force me into thoughts of L.M.. Off of my bookshelf, I picked up a book by Amy Hempel and found a picture of Danielle Brown that I didn't recall, but could estimate its date. We would've been in Santa Cruz, and I believe still together. Saw my friend Todd Hoskins perform tonight at the Hollywood Improv.

I had sex outside tonight. Believe it or not that wasn't the highlight of the day. L.M. called me in the morning. That was the highlight. I was surprised, grateful, and relieved. I thought it was someone else calling until I heard her voice. In the very early morning, before any of the aforementioned, I felt the onset of a panic attack. I don't know how I got out of it, but I did. Caffeine and anxiety—a terrible recipe. My father hurt his back; I went over and mowed the lawns. His viewpoint toward his health makes me worry.

In a coffeehouse today, while daydreaming, I lost my queen in a game of chess. Much later, I had an opportunity for retribution in taking my opponent's queen, but snuck around to checkmate instead. Read more Amy Hempel at games end. After three hours in the same seat, I left, only to return later in the evening. Afternoon coffee with Todd Hoskins, then dinner with Holly Vernola. The remainder of the day was spent discussing my filmscript and waiting for L.M. to phone that she was coming over. Lots of time to wait, when you're scheduled to meet at night.

I was partially asleep next to L.M. when the phone rang this morning. The job I wanted finally called to schedule an interview tomorrow. L.M. and I ate pizza and breadsticks until we were sick. Attended a meeting at the Spurgeon that was full of testosterone and verbalized bravado. A braggart with a badge was invited due to the recent vandalism, prostitution, and drug dealing in the building. Apparently Saturday there was a fire down the hall. Cooking their drugs, I imagine. Luckily the sprinkler system in our historic building is sophisticated enough to wash out a single smoke-filled room.

The job interview went very well this morning. I do feel the distinct possibility of, yet again, being considered as overqualified. On top of that there are apparently over one hundred applicants being interviewed. But fuck it. My mood today has been exceptionally good. Today I believe I began and completed writing the strongest scene yet in my filmscript. I was at coffee, forcing myself to write, when new aspects of the scene came to me and felt like gifts. L.M. phoned late tonight, and I picked her up and drove her north and then south until she fell asleep.

I was scheduled to drive my sister to the airport, but at the last minute she and her boyfriend reconciled and he drove her. I’m glad I was scheduled; my other sisters would’ve gotten angry at having the task cancelled on them over the workings of her romantic relationship. Later L.M. and I went to a film that wasn’t good, and then to an ethnic food faire at the Orange Circle that was. I finally felt like I introduced her to an activity. Earlier, I told my mother, “fuck it then” when she wouldn’t let me take these wasabi nuts.

Went on three walks today—dogs at the beach, downtown, and around the UCI campus waiting for L.M. to call. She was supposed to phone at midnight, but fell asleep before the hour came. I got a ridiculously bad sunburn while doing yardwork for my father. I trimmed hedges, and broke the shears. Downtown tonight was dull. Today’s sunlight made me tired. I was given the opportunity to anonymously rat on someone I don’t like, but didn’t take it. Late at night I was called a bastard for not turning over in bed to look at an octopus on television.

Saw Johnna Adams at coffee, with a stack of books, waiting for her call, for the first of two plays I would see today. We hadn’t spoken in person since the playwright competition. Overheard others discussing a girlfriend they discovered and couldn’t believe was gay. One commented that she “was always a risk taker”. Amy Hempel’s depiction of a noosed-dog-over-a-picnic-fire hit me with a beautiful horror I hadn’t felt since Dennis Cooper got a last-chapter-snuff-film-victim to say “Please don’t.”. Before that maybe, Sartre and “Did you see the rat?” At theatre tonight, Jessica Beane took my hand and held it.