Last night, I had a pretty awesome orgasm and pretty good sex leading up to it with some dude in Chelsea. It had been a while since I had seen someone (okay, maybe only a week, but it felt like a while), and sometimes I think it is so absurd that I get paid for this - surely, I should be paying to have someone pleasure me solely, for them to give me nice long head and suck on various other things, that not only do I get pleasured in a way that I probably never will outside the bounds of hookerdom, not having to reciprocate, but then they also pay me.

So, that coffee I drank yesterday morning fucked me up majorly. Afterward, I called Greg, deciding I was going to go to No. 1 Chinese and got insanely giddy about it and called various other people telling them to come, none of whom wanted to come. And for some reason, these couple people saying no or not picking up their phone made me really sad and socially anxious and I took a shower blasting the one Organ song I have on a mix CD on repeat, and got giddy again. There were some highs and lows last night and they kept coming without any gradual blurring between the two - I think this is what you might call a manic episode. And then I texted Greg telling him I was not going and went to the booze store, got a really cheap bottle of Cab that I will never get again. Cab is so nice normally. I have even had good, cheap bottles - but this was so not what I wanted - next time I will spend the extra two dollars and get, if not a great bottle, at least, a decent wine.

And because I wanted to go all the way, I went to Hana and got some nice cheese, some crackers, some grape leaves, and a thing of Toberlerone. It was so cliche all the stuff I had in my hands, the wine and cheese and chocolate - I was convinced that the guy behind me in line thought I was a cheesy romantic on my way to go meet a date or something, but no, I wanted to tell him, this stuff is for no one but myself, all me, goddamnit. And I walked home through the chilly air, consumed quite a bit of each of the decadences while watching episodes of Sex and the City I had just watched the night before because everything is broken, my CD player, my DVD player - and really, I don't care and enjoyed it more than I should have.

Even with the wine, it took me a long time to fall asleep and it was a sweaty, nerve suppressing effort to finally get there, and as soon I was there, in dreamland, securley asleep, a call from my new neighbor whose number I didn't recognize at two something. I hit silence and tried to go back to sleep. But she called three more times. Finally, I answered the phone and she told me that she couldn't open the front door and had been out there for half an hour trying to get it open. I growled, told her to hold on, and marched downstairs to show her how you turn a key in a doorhandle before going back upstairs, and going to my bed, but not to sleep, not for a long time despite my best efforts and my frequent cursings of the Polish girl who couldn't open our front door and thus disturbed my much willed sleep. Okay, so it probably wasn't the coffee or the Polish girl responsible for my not being able to fall asleep. You probably knew that.

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Also, I want to see Belle and Sebastain a lot, but $55?! I mean, I guess, Beck is playing also, but I am not in 11th grade any longer, and no longer think he's the shit, especially not at that price. And how come I didn't hear of this festival until today - has it not been publicized?