September 12, 1998.

Still awfully sleepy, 'tho I got 9 good hours of sleep last night (somewhat punctuated by a loud conversation on the front walk...the couple upstairs don't make noise all the time, but when they do, it's loud). I feel trapped between my kitchen & the front walk. Spoiling food, the attendant smell, the promise of squalor & the possibility of vermin hem me in. Did I mention that we have mice? Possibly 'mouse,' but it's hard to be sure at this point. I want a cat. I've wanted a cat for as long as I can remember, but I can't get one now...I don't know where I'll be in a year, and if it'll be a place that allows cats. There's nothing more loathsome than people who incorporate another life into theirs without thinking of the long-term. This applies to babies, pets, even plants (although you can usually find a good home for a plant...and I don't have too many qualms about trashing a spider plant or whatever.)

Did what I could about the kitchen, but I feel like I'm losing the battle to unacceptable squalor. Either my standards will have to lower or I'll have to clean obsessively. Blech.

I don't know what it is, but Sister Sunshine always gets a really raw deal when it comes to celebrating her birthday in a nightclubbing stylee. Last night was this year's attempt, and it blew goats. Part of the problem was that it started heinously late - I don't mind waiting until midnight to go to a club, but in my experience large groups tend to lose momentum if they're not set in motion before nine or so. By the time we entered a club, the celebrants were down to Sister Sunshine & me. It didn't help that the Cave crowd seemed entirely composed of frosh. I don't recall being that lame only 3 years ago, but you can't argue with that kind of proof. My coolness experienced accelerated growth during that first year of university...and these kids were on the wrong side of the growth spurt. It was entirely too painful to stay for more than 3 songs, so we soon headed out for a drink to take our mind off the evening's demise.

Of course, we ended up in Ein.stein's. The place is looking less pit-like these days. SS & I lounged on the new couch in our trashy clubware & big shoes, sipping palliative alcoholic concoctions & digging our own 18-song extravaganza. We headed back to my place at about 3 a.m., as SS had forgotten her beeper whilst urging me out the door.

And the bus ride was fucking miserable. Picture a bus entirely full of men...men of all ages, single & in groups. The bars have all closed, so it's a fairly juiced crowd. And 2 girls innocently saunter aboard in small skirts, tight tops, smoky stockings (in my case, fishnets) and big black club shoes. It was perhaps the creepiest experience of my life. I was tipsy & tired from all of the day's activities, and the whole ride took on a nightmarish quality. I frequently dream of being in the city after dark, unable to get home through fiendish transport diversions & a general loginess. This was the embodiment of my city anxieties. And to make it worse, I was dressed in clothes that put a big sleazy target on my ass. I avoided their eyes & wished for a concealing sweatshirt & my geeky glasses. Even Sister Sunshine was affected, and this is the girl who thinks nothing of walking for 20 minutes in the middle of the hooker district at 3 in the morning in the dead of winter. Her steady cursing as we exited was a sight to behold. Fucking creepy sons of bitches.

Well, I'm going raving & Nick Cave'ing tonight, so I'd best get some shiny black polish on my nails before Trevor shows up. I'll see you tomorrow, after my first rave, my first Nick Cave performance & (it is hoped) my first 'shrooms experience. Later.