Well I earned it.

I was so tired of running around. Is that what you're supposed to do, is that what normal people do, go from one thing to another, finish a work shift or a long run and head right over to drown in a group of people, and drink and drink and drink?

I feel much better now, much better after spending last night in, watching weird movies and leaving the lights off. I feel much better after getting up at 3 pm today and spending 5 hours cleaning my house, and writing a letter, and playing the piano. Then this photographer came over to test shoot me for some catalog thing, and it was fine, and I got paid, and he was very nice and earnest and liked my music and offered more, offered more, as Julian said "and you'll sit there nodding your head to the psychic noise and the floating promises..."

I don't think I'd ever heard him quite as poetic as he was on Friday. We nearly got into an argument. He said my intelligence was overshadowed by my beauty. He said "you're cringing... but... I think you know it's true..." He said, "I think you know better than this, I mean come on, you're going into a situation, it's a cliche, you're smart enough to-- you can limit yourself to one drink and watch everyone else get drunk and if these men are trying to USE you, you can USE them too, if they're offering these--"

And I cut him off and I said, "I know you find mean women more attractive Julian. But it's just not in my nature. I can't be like that."

"No, I don't think you should be like that, I was just saying, all of these men are attracted to you, they might be--"

"But I don't even want them, like that."

"But you're GETTING with them. Like THAT."

I glared at him. "It's not like it's been, 10 million people here..."

"Okay, I'm not, okay, I'm going to be critical here. Can I speculate?"

"Go."

"I think that just saying, well, I didn't plan for it to happen, I think it's a cop-out, I think you've gotten past that, with the drinking, and with Stefan, I think you see all these things before they happen and for some reason you're ignoring that knowledge and... I don't know why... Does that sound right?"

"Yes. You are right. I don't know why either. Maybe I just don't care."

And he nodded when I said I don't care.

"Can I say one more thing, and then I'll let you have the last word, because we're way over time?"

I nodded.

"I just think you're selling yourself short."

"It's hard not to drink at these awful parties."

"Oh, I'm sure, I know, it's hideous, all that psychic noise, and the floating promises... Sick puppies."

I laughed. "They're demons, everywhere, they see your light, and they just want to take it and put it in a little box and make some money off of it, and I don't want to lose my light..."

"I don't think you're... in danger of becoming dark, like that."

"I can't play this game." I said. He was looking at the floor. "What?" I said, "What else?"

"Nothing, I'm just sympathi3ing, I guess. I'm sorry you're in so much pain over this."

"So, these ama3ing clients you have, that swim through it all painlessly and succeed, what is it that they have, Julian?"

"They don't, I don't know, you know Scarlet, a lot of people have a lot LESS than you. I don't know how to swim through it, I don't have those answers--"

"I wasn't asking you for The Answer."

"I know you weren't. Well. Okay. I guess it's something to think about for Tuesday." He got up. "Here, if you can fill that out.." He handed me the clipboard again, of the inventory thing for the insurance companies. I'd forgotten to fill out the back. "Sorry..." he said. "I'll see you Tuesday, ok?"

"Yes, okay." I went into his lobby and filled out the thing as slowly as I could. And I have to say, I love him, as much as I ever have.

The Whore Store, Industry Parties, and Date Rape.

I wanted to go to work last night. I ran 7 miles. I went home. I'd gone shopping with Jo on Monday at the whorestore to get her a starter kit and myself some new stockings and shoes since my gorgeous glittering asphalt tufli were becoming a deathwish. And I ended up getting this new mesh top deal and some ridiculous sportshorts. I liked the look and the shoes fit like... well they fit like shoes, and I was all rearin' to go.

But I got invited to a fancy industry party with a fancy guy, and I figured it was in my best interest to go, though my blood was boiling more and more violently with every passing minute of getting ready, as I reali3ed I had nothing to wear and no money with which to buy anything to wear to this crap, and that I'd rather be working so I could earn the aforementioned.

So I'm at this fancy party in an old speakeasy, downing fancy Martinique rums, neat, that were costing my fancy date about 20 bucks a pop, and again, thanks to my hard-drinking lineage, feeling nothing but a bit tipsy after 8 or so generous pours in a matter of a couple of hours, talking to some famous British actor who looked like Hugh Laurie but who definitely wasn't Hugh Laurie, and whose number I have in my phone with only a first name so I can't even google him and figure out why he's famous, and I had to pretend I had any clue, but I didn't, because I live under a rock.

And then my fancy date was starting to get antsy, and said he wanted to leave, and then the group collectively decided to get some blow, and I said I don't do blow, so they whittled on down to pot, and I said I don't do drugs, so my date suggested Vicodin and Valium, and I said Okay fine, and before I know it the man whips out a proper mortar and pestle, and proceeds to crush up the pills. And I said I don't snort things. So he said okay take it orally it'll still hit you faster. So I poured it into my 16th Martinique rum and gu33led.

Next thing I know I'm asleep at his apartment. I vaguely recall giving a striptease without removing any of my (secondhand bargain basement strait-from-the-crate) clothes and making out with him, even though, I like him, but he wrote a damn horrendous song on the piano, and I'm not really all that attracted to him. And then as the bits and pieces came back to me I recalled him wanting to have sex and beginning to unbuckle his pants and then getting really annoyed because I passed out mid-fondle, and then, he puts on a condom and thrusts in for some terrible sex anyway. While I was half-conscious. And then told me, like it were just hilarious, that I fell asleep.

I wish I'd gone to work at the club. People there have fucking morals.