Jane says how are you and I say oh brother. We're sitting at the bar at Sunday to Sunday  and I am trying to figure out how much she can sense, like in regard to the-stars and my-bad-mood and intuition-like-a-spider. It's blue and light outside. The Lower East Side is busy and sweet and I'm ambiantly noticing that everyone walking in looks prettier-than-me. I pick at my nails and Jane  speaks to me all gentle. Jane says an-extra-dirty-martini-should-be-an-after-dark-drink and I say oh brother. Jane is telling me about how she used to do five-martini-dinners. She would drink five martinis and then she would go to Metrograph. At Metrograph, she would sit in the balcony seats and heckle the crowd and misinterpret the films. I tell Jane that she's giving me ideas and Jane says I mean I can laugh about it now and it made me who I am and I say what do you think about quitting and Jane says good and I say oh brother. Id hoped that Jane would laugh and say Oh Brother back, but Jane stays sweet as sugar and says: whenever you're ready. I'm at Sunday to Sunday and it's on Broome and Orchard off Allen Street and I'm on high-alert. Christopher is at a sword-fighting competition in Brooklyn. I said should I come and Christopher said no. I said should I change and Christopher said whatever-you-say-beautiful. Christopher played me The Shadow over Innsmouth on audio and said that my-life-be-like-this. Christopher said he was going to show me Hail, Caesar! but then I switched into too-checked-out-mode and so Christopher put-me-to-sleep. All manic and biting the inside of my cheeks, etc. Christopher called himself my [redacted] and I said don't. After that, Christopher called himself my handler and my enabler and my best friend. Christopher called me his [redacted] and I said don't. After that, Christopher called me an angel and a-homeless-alcoholic-problem and his best friend.

Olivia wants me to know that she loves me. Olivia wants to know if I want list at Gosh. I want to know about the hours in the day. How many of them there are and all the things one can do with them in the weeks-that-aren't-trouble. I want to know about Independent-Art-Fair. Swiss-Embassy. Short-term-memory-loss. Chinese-peptides. Rehab-facility. Female-club-promoter. I-keep-on-getting-worse-but-you-still-love-me.

Christopher says he can call [redacted] and fix everything by announcing my demise. Mission complete, sir, he says. She's laid up on my couch and, trust, she is falling apart. She likes stimulants and vodka and reading and she's one-hundred-twenty-one-pounds weight-gain-all-went-to-her-face. She's wearing Brandy-Melville because Ciel-Chapman-no-longer-fits. She's a really sweet girl and so he feels kind of sad. He regretted this game, so he decided to save me. The sunset was gorgeous, so he deserted the navy. I'm dancing in his palm. I'm drunk and Im walking down Grande Street. Christopher decided he likes sword fighting and so now he's at this gay bar in Bushwick.

I'm at this other bar and I'm like guys what if I got a full-time-job and all the guys are like girl, noooo. Christopher is like well if you can you should. I'm like I'm gonna go home to change and all the guys are like you look great girl and I'm like I really don't and all the guys are l like we love the Louis Votton on you and I'm like things are really not looking good. After that, all the guys say girl nooooo. Caroline brought me over gin and I told her about my trouble and she told me I'd made it. My father brought me stimulants and I told him about my trouble and he told me about lakes and rivers and a house where it would be good for me to float for a while. Christopher was bad at sleep, and in those fugue state hours when I told him about my trouble he told me that he loved me. All the guys were like well you're still skinny just not like you were in the winter and I was like but I should be like I was in the winter and all the guys were like girl you get it.

There's some man on the internet and I think he's stalking [redacted] and [redacted] and [redacted] and recently, he's gotten pretty into reading about me. I am not a spy, It’s fine that you're wondering. I don't tell him that it's fine that you're wondering. I don't say that it's weird that you're wondering. I don't say anything at all. I can't care about attention good-or-bad because I don't have object permanence. I'm at Funny Bar and these girls I kind of know are talking about how they kind of care what people think and I interject like: I REALLY care what people think. It's weird that I'm putting-it-all-out-there. C**** P****** is a homeless soon-to-be-twenty-six-year-old writer living in Manhattan. She understands that this is childish. She understands that a friend-to-all-is-a-friend-to-none. I read the old journals over, because the guy, the ones my friends say is a stalker, keeps reading and reading and reading the old shit and then, when he's done, he keeps on sending me notes. The old stuff is all about when Luke would come home and hold me so tight I'd feel my ribs crack. It's all about, like, assigning so much meaning to a glass of water or something. We lived in a glass apartment in the sky and it's these quivering stories about, for example, Luke buying me chicken caesar salad pizza and saying aren't you glad that we came home early to dance? I'm being such an exhibitionist. I'm watching all these strangers in the window watching us dance. Anyways, it makes sense in retrospect because I always know when someone's really crazy, and also all I've ever really desired is domestic bliss.  There are a few sweet stories, too. Like we're at this beach club in El Salvador and this woman is talking about how she'd buy these Salvadoran children who requested cans of black-beans these J-Crew princess beds instead and Luke says to me; you're doing a good job talking to this weird old bitch. And then there's all these girls around, American girls, I don't know where they came from but Luke is circling them like a shark on my behalf and he keeps on being all like hey, hey, this is C**** and she's shy and she's pretty and you should be her friend. There was this infinity pool and it looked out all over the green and the golf course at this golf club in El Salvador. And I was feeling shy and pretty and childish and so I left dinner early while Luke beamed and debuted me and I dunked myself hair and all under all this water, in this pool, it was more for decor than bathing. It was dark outside and there were all these stars. The American girls went to the ocean after that. Luke put me in this bullet proof van and he put his palm across my stomach and he said seat-belt and then these crypto-guys drunk-drove us all the way back to San Salvador, down this dynamite-freeway. Cliff side drive. Anyways, this is what my life used to be like. There's this stalker on the internet and he's reading the archives. Idk.

Christopher texts me and he preempts every last inquiry. Home and going to bed soon you can't come over because I gotta pass out soon [redacted] is at [redacted] if you are not-feeling-good about being-alone don't say anything about [redacted] if you decide to go to [redacted] because you are not-feeling-good about being alone I still love you. And then I say TY <3 and love you too and then I sleep for a while, so dehydrated. I sleep restlessly for sixteen hours, and then in the morning, I drink sparkling water from a glass cup.