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I need to make this quick, because I need to wake up in eight hours, and I'd like to get some real sleep tonight.

I must have walked ten miles today, and I didn't get much accomplished. I knew I shouldn't have quit my job. If I got fired, I would have received a paycheck in three days, now I have to wait two more weeks. I could have goofed off, stolen things, and got more money in the process, but I went in on my third day, and I just had to say to my manager "I'm sorry, this just isn't for me. You can have this uniform. It violates my moral standards to work in this industry." I would feel so ashamed to tell you what industry I was actually working in for three days. Let's just put it this way, when people asked me where I worked, I said that I was a male prostitute, so I wouldn't have to feel ashamed of what I did.

What didn't violate any bit of my moral standards was hanging out at Boyd's place of work in between errands today, and eating food for free that he let me have from the store. He even gave me two packs of cigareetes, which I went and sold so we could go get beer after he got off. He said he was meeting some friends for beer, and I should come along. In truth, he was meeting his friends for beer and dinner at a nice restaurant, and they had it planned awhile in advance, and weren't expecting me to show up, and didn't exactly welcome this situation. My dinner beer cost me $3.50 plus tip, so I only have one dollar left of the money I made off those cigarettes.

It was not worth the precious little money I have, and I probably should have skipped it. The only reason I went was because Boyd said he's leaving for New York soon, and I wanted to make sure he wasn't lost in some patriotic trance. He's not, the trip just happened to work out that way, he said. In reality, I bet he planned it like that, just to be ballsy about flying into New York on the morning of the 11th. Boyd's cool like that. He's the only person I know who goes to grad school and the methadone clinic.