The days pass with alarming speed.  The renters arrived yesterday and seem very pleasant.  I drive dolefully back to Hollywood.

Nothing seems to shake the occasional yet profound moments of self-doubt I experience since he was despatched.  I can only hope that these moments become fewer and fewer.  I have therapy this morning so will sup at the recovery table with my peers.

I woke at 4.30.   Made coffee, checked emails and tried to find some peace from my jumbled mind.  Walked the lil dog over the terrazzo and brass stars on Hollywood Boulevard.  Only me and the vagrants out so early.  A young, black drug fucked girl came up to me and grabbed my sweater.  Her eyes blank, her face unwashed and greasy.  I told her to leave me alone.

Since knowing that I am leaving Hollywood and deconstructing my home here I am eager to get going, to get the hell out of this place.

Another date last night.  His idea.  Still disinterested in everything.  Listless.  He texted me later and told me he wanted to make me a leather necklace.  Good God.  He wanted me to assess whether he had made a good impression or not.  In better times I might have thought more positively about him.  He had seven dogs.

I shaved my head yesterday.  My hair was long because he liked it that way.

Meeting Jake was an emotional disaster for me.   He lingers like the smell of raw sewage.

Polaxed by dubious longing for what could never be.