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Sunday night

I don't know the new games (so what, it's limited, it doesn't matter, they're out of hand), my house has degenerated beyond belief, and I"m not going to live there at all, I bounced checks to phone and rent, my heat rash spreads, fleas already, morose today, so bad to continue. I'm sure people think I'm nothing but sorry for myself. I guess they're right. I feel like I should go away again and return in a better state. Last night I guess I built up too much - but the bus crawled and I got too excited comme d'habitude les histoires. When I got to the C Club - awful - I don't expect hysteria but they barely quit playing cards to say hi. They were wrapped up in playing the Loud Family, too (forte version of NY game) and in making impression on new boys at bar. So I leaned on the wall a while and left almost crying. I guess it was fatigue plus the feeling of "I don't know what to do, where to go, etc."

So I let myself be adopted by A - I slept on the floor in her room and we had girls' club early this morning, then a lunch party. Just like last summer, being in that house and consciously away from everyone else. I made 2 or 3 trips to my house, sadder and more disgusted every time. Beverly, boyfriend, and cousin slept all day and I couldn't wake them.

Everyone is so ambitious now. Friends in New York. They met David Byrne. They're all getting showers from Sears.

Why do I feel like I'd better come up with something sensational fast? I feel like last year's fad, if that much.

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