A man with missing teeth and a back pack that could fit a body enters the subway. He yells out that we're all going to pray together. My first thought? We are all going to die. It is too late to deal with death or God and my evening at Happy Hour has left me tired and counting the stops to Avenue M. Not realizing it I say out loud "Shut up" and suddenly he's going to save my soul. "You have evil in you." But Guinness is certainly not evil. "Your mother misses you, she's sick." How'd he know?

9:30 crawl out of beds are a foreign experience to me. Even on break I wake by six. But lately I have been entranced by late night television which keeps me awake until three. Last night I fell asleep before midnight but awake at one to the phone. The baby upstairs started to cry and then they bounced a ball on my brain until three. Today I woke at 9:30 to a package of spring clothes being delivered. Red capris, red gingham flip flops, cute sneakers, a bracelet. But they are bouncing the ball again and where is the sun?

We were SUPPOSED to go to Bennington today. We were supposed to go to Bennington in June of 2000, that was the first of many planned trips to Bennington which have failed miserably. And I don't even always care that we don't go, but it does bother me that you never make any effort to make it up to me, and instead we're going to the Museum of Natural History. And yes, I'm certain we'll have a good time but as much as I try not to be, I'm still disappointed that we will not be going to Bennington... AGAIN.

In the past twenty-four hours the strangest things have occurred around here. I didn't know half of it until after the fact, yet I've been dragged into pretty much all of it. While cults, an attempted murder and successful suicide were all going on, I was hanging out playing Scrabble with an unwilling partner (who ended up kicking my ass) in my apartment, not really thinking about anything except what words you can make with three A's, two U's, a B and a Q. And as my best friend is sucked into the abyss, my partner won with this: bit.

Jesse looked up from his struggle with the gas cap and was shocked to see her; sitting on the hood of his car. Poised. Waiting for him. He had been here before, in this exact place. Her, skin clean and the coloring of a Georgia peach, curls blowing, cutoff jean shorts cut immorally short, showing enough to make him convinced she had no tan lines. Twirling a red straw languidly around her Coca Cola glass filled with ice and the watery remains of some pink lemonade. He noticed the bead of sweat starting on her neck, traveling toward her breasts...

The Star Wars exhibits had a sneak preview at BMA last night. Tonight it is featured at First Saturday. I have tickets. Two. Complete with an audio tour narrated by James Earl Jones. I have been very excited about this night, yet I just woke up and realize that although I regularaly wake early, I am not ME until I've had coffee. It's a good thing I have added to my morning routine getting a cup at the diner on the way to my good friend Public Transportation, because I think I'd be the world's most dazed fool without it.

Days with Rachel always clear my head and realign my sensabilities. She loves my stories and God knows the people around me have enough drama to satisfy her needs for my tales. Today was no exception. And although I email every day, if I know I'm going to see her, I save a story or two. And we bitch about the same things each time, but it's okay, because it shows that just like our friendship, some things don't change. And that's comfort for us. Even if we don't see each other as much as we'd like, we're there, comfortably.

I am such a good mood, it's almost embarrassing. I guess all this talk about needs assessment with the kids has rubbed off on me. Which is not bad at all. Especially since I am happy about my mood, which is elevating my mood even more. Now, we all know how my life seems to work out, so I'm probably going to get hit by a bus tonight or something, but I honestly don't think even that could spoil my absolute euphoria at this moment. And the kicker is that I don't even know where this wonderful mood came from.

There are several things which bother her about her friend. One of these is how when their situations are parallel, he gives her advice which when she used on him, he refused. This most often happens in relationships. He'll tell her to ditch someone, but when she points out his involvement is doing the same thing but only worse, he says, "I know," and then changes the subject. And she can't handle that at times, and wants to hit him. But she can't, because that's just wrong. And she hates to sound like her mom, but, "Practice what you preach."

Motivation is a tricky thing. I was writing every day since the first, and then yesterday I just totally let it go. BAD! So now I get to write 200 words, but that isn't what my intention was. I don't want to get lazy, because the last time, I did, I stopped writing for YEARS. Except for random words thrown on a page. And now that I am thinking about not writing, I'm going to write about writing, and not writing. And that's boring. But what else can I can I write about. I think I'm obsessive compulsive or something!

She just vanished! And no one seemed to care, except her teacher, who feared a letter in her file. She asked to go to the bathroom, because she had been sick and then she didn't come back. A girl was sent to check, and reported that the girl had gone home. And the teacher, who was stressed enough because of "the test", ran around trying to find help. But no one cared. So she ran around searching, and calling, but no one helped. And then the girl wandered back in. As if nothing had happened, and the teacher exercised restraint.

The differences between vacation and being at work are so many it seems as if I lived two different lives. The first few days of freaking out because it's light out and so I think, "Ack! The alarm!" are nothing but bliss and make getting out of bed simple. Days spent how I like are priceless. You get along better with people you work with, and suddenly you talk to them about LIFE and not WORK, and it scares you to realize that you forgot those two things are separate. And you lament the end, as if it were death.

You have run out of space on your hard drive. Great. Too many MP3s which have yet to be burned. So I have to choose which to delete. And I should just email them to someone to be burned but of course I haven't done that just yet. So I go through and delete the ones I realize I'm never going to listen to. But inevitably, in a few days, I will search for the deleted ones frantically, only to realize that I don't have them any longer and will have to resist downloading them again, I need to upgrade.

So, I picked a fight. I didn't do it intentionally but still, I admit I picked it. But how could I not? You knew I was getting nervous, and you have to admit that you carry at least half the blame for that. So, we went to bed angry, which I hate, but it's hard to resolve a problem when you are more interested in your Palm Pilot and SNL. So we both festered in our sleep and woke up to our usual Sunday routine of you needing to get to the city. And there is no time for discussion.

I've fallen behind. And I promised myself I wouldn't. But I have. I haven't been inspired and if I were to write about what has been going on, people would really never come work here. Not that people are coming in droves, or anything. Wow. I'm bitter about my job. Not that this is anything new. At least it is the weekend. WEEKEND! Ah, how refreshing, even if I do have to clean. I don't care. I will be happy to do anything that does not involve being harassed for 6 hours. Hm, bad. My attitude is bad. Oh well.

I'm the musical director of the play we're putting on at my school. How exciting. I get to teach children how to sing while they make fun of my codirector. And I sit there and giggle in my head and wish that I could join in. Because, as they say, I've "got jokes." Is that like, "Got milk?" because I've got NONE of that. Which is going to be a problem tomorrow morning when I'm itching for a cup of coffee and everything is closed because everyone here is "Shomer Shabbos" except for little old me. I should go shopping.

RAIN!? It figures. All week I was tempted to play hooky and go to the beach, but missing a day of work is pointless because the kids are impossible to calm down on your day back. Woke up early, hit the gym and watched with dismay as the skies opened and it started to pour. Of course, this will keep me inside cleaning, but I so wanted an excuse to blow that off. Of course, it's almost time to throw another party, so cleaning has its benefits. I guess. At least I'm taking the summer off to take classes. YAY!

Two novels. Sitting unfinished. One I started in seventh grade and am embarrassed to read. The other is my science fiction novel that I occasionally ponder because I really think it would sell. I mean, come on - it's got everything. Religion, scandal, UFOs, a plot to take over the world. Someday I'm going to finish it. Some day when I can remember how to write something besides my interior monologue. Of course, my interior monologue is just soooooo interesting, ha! But seriously, it kind of is. Right? I'm such an odd child... but I guess that's what keeps me sane.

People who don't answer their call waiting are on my list of people who should just go to hell. Why do you have it if you're not going to use it? People KNOW you're not answering if the answering machine doesn't pick up. And believe me, they get mad at you. Even worse than these people are those who have caller i.d. call waiting. Because then you just have to wonder if they're not picking up because it's YOU. Okay, maybe I'm the only one who thinks that. But still, it's annoying. The should all just get voicemail - like me!

Nervous. The only word to describe the feeling in his stomach. He knows if he keeps this up much longer, he'll be caught. But he cannot bring himself to tell them, so instead he divides his time between the one here, and the one there. The one here's catching on, and the one there wants to see him more. But he can't tell either of them the truth, so he continues the charade, pretending to be in love with both of them, and telling the one here that he's not seeing the one there. He hasn't told there about here.

Walking home today I reached the subway and saw him from behind. Answered a call on my phone and asked if I could get back to the person because there was a Kings Highway Crazy there. He was barefoot, in cutoff pants and a white teeshirt with a camping blanket wrapped around him and a bag around his neck. He turned around and it was the angel from the subway. Eating coleslaw and commenting on people's choice in clothing. Is he really one to talk? Is ANYONE?? And should that matter? Afterall, how hip was Jesus in his swaddling clothes?

My mother is neurotic. She can be completely excited about something and then freak out about the most random details. These details usually involve money. I don't like to think about money. Especially if I'm excited. But she just keeps going and going and then it's like, "Are you NOT happy about this?" and she's all, "Oh, NO, I'm soooooo happy... but have you thought about...? I didn't think it would happen so fast..." It's like, "Hello, let's rain on Nancy's parade," while she's claiming to be the sunshine. She's my mom. I'm used to it. But it IS annoying.

99 bottles of beer on the wall, 99 bottles of beer, take one down, pass it around 98 bottles of beer on the wall. 98 bottles of beer on the wall, 98 bottles of beer take one down, pass it around 97 bottles of beer on the wall. 97 bottles of beer on the wall, 97 bottles of beer take one down, pass it around, 96 bottles of beer on the wall. 96 bottles of beer on the wall, 96 bottles of beer, take one down, pass it around, 95 bottles of beer on the wall. 95 bottles of beer...

I like to write haiku. I write them all the time. I write haiku and draw comic strips featuring stick figures. I'm very good at it. It often gets me in trouble. I can be mean. Reall mean. BUT, the people who matter laugh so hard they cry. And that is what gets me through my day. People like O. She just LOVES my stick figures. And the whiteboard in S's office is designated for my haikus. I am good. Once S hung one of my comics up and even took the blame for it. THAT is a true fan!

you have no freaking clue/ clue clue clue clue clue clue clue/ I stole N's haiku... Everybody run/something wicked this way comes/ She is such a hun... I love Oyster Bay/everyone jump and shout hey!/Let's go there today... Brooklyn Museum/C-3PO on Saturday/oh can we please go?... Nasty stick figures/circulating around work/I'll get myself fired... it's 100 words/I forgot to write each day/ playing catch up now... I set Septtoe on/fire - but it was not my fault/he's a stupid cat... Mookie so spooky/brain damaged little black cat/makes monkey noises.

Computers can really get on my nerves. I can't imagine life without email, as it keeps me in touch with people I don't get to see due to distance, but besides THAT, computers can really piss me off. And I know how to use them. I know more than the average schmoe. And yet I had a huge scare yesterday when I was missing 5 postings from my April batch and had to freak out about having time to repost them. And I realized that this is just God's way of reminding me that I put things off too much.

Finally! We went. It took us long enough. I worried that we would either get along BEAUTIFULLY or kill each other. There could be no happy medium. But instead there was just that. Middle of the road. We got up there and had time alone before walking around and then meeting up with R. Had a nice dinner, watched tv, slept. Visited Brattleboro, saw bead, bongs and the brewery. Came home, had dinner with R and her boyfriend. She ate steak. I remember her as a vegan lesbian. We had great conversation and the returned the next day, happy.

The fantasy grew in my head. Last night's sexual escapade left me dripping, going to bed yearning for completion but knowing you would tease and make me wait - I knew it would be better that way. I thought all day about how you would do it, and when, and on the train I was almost panting with the thoughts running through my head. I couldn't wait. Got back to the apartment and crawled into the tub, and the second my fingers made contact it started, bringing me higher, and I completed quickly. I'm counting the seconds until you come over.

I have to clean my kitchen. Now. At this very moment. But I can't bring myself to do it, even if I know that you're coming here for dinner and I'm cooking up quite the feast. I just can't bring myself to go in there and clean. It will take about ten minutes... an extra five to clean out the fridge, but that's no consolation. I have no desire to go in there and begin. None. And I should because I'm in the mood for a little romance -- and more. But who wants to fool around amidst the dirty dishes?

I DID IT! I wrote every day! Well, maybe not, but it appears that way. And I was good for a time and will only improve. YAY! Did you know that if you drop a lighter in the tub it may still work? Even better than before? I didn't know that. But now I do. I'm going to celebrate the end of this month by lighting my daffodil candles and sitting through dinner without saying to him, "I can't think of what to write about." Which is a weird statement because I never seem to write ABOUT anything. WHOO HOO!