I woke up this morning fairly hungover and got a call from the regular, ran off to see him, so glad to get this money that I needed so bad. Then I did laundry and cleaned my house a little, finally having clothes that don't smell like cigarettes, booze, and sweat. And then because everything eventually will gel, I got contacted by the other regular and went and saw him, jizzed in two people's mouths with the span of seven hours, and now have enough to pay my landlord the rent tomorrow, even enough to have eaten a burrito and flan at La Morelos this evening. They were out of spicy pork though, and so I had to deal with the terror of not having my saftey blanket and instead getting chorizo.

Some moments, busy days like this one, you feel so proud of yourself and your ability to get all these things done in one day, on the one day you needed to, your one day off from working at the Princeton Review. And tomorrow, bank, post office, hopefully the Strand to return Hannah's book, and then work, and then I will be done with all my obligations and can just relax. I am so excited for tomorrow night to have all of this behind me, to have clean sheets to climb into when it is all done and to curl up in bed with a book, right now Kelly Link's Magic for Beginners, but if there is enough cash left after tomorrow's bill paying to buy it, I will be curling up tomorrow night with The Year of Magical Thinking.

The reason I was hungover this morning was because last night I went out with Ben, Christy, and Whitney to the Rapture show at Tribeca Grand, and luckily I was with Ben since he knows people just about everywhere, and so we didn't have to wait in the block long line to get in and were actually able to see them play. Then I danced and drank whiskey from my flask and smoked Top cigarettes at the Look dance party, scared the bassist from the Rapture, who I am in love with and more or less made that known to him. Christy and I also terrified some of the partiers by screaming, "Death to Heteros" and other such nonsense in the middle of the dancefloor. Merlin took pictures of us doing so, but sadly, none of them got posted, however one of me smoking a Top cigarette, probably rolled by Ben, is up there.

Oh yeah, and tomorrow headphones are going to save my fucking life and make my job about eight million billion times better.