6:31 PM.
----- hasn't responded to the long letter I sent approximately one week ago. Perhaps I included too many intimate details of the endphase of my relationship with -----... was I trying to win over ----- for myself by painting -----'s world black? While writing, I was doubtless flooded by memories of the few months deep in the black pit, memories I don't usually care to bring up to the surface. Perhaps I was teleported back to that time, feeling all the anguish again, desperate to make my hurt understood to any who might listen.
I spend the day learning C, taking shirts to the cleaners and picking up some, having lunch with ----- at Lemonia, where we discussed some of the leaks in bot gammon intelligence and the value of knowing opponents' behavior in poker (again I am reminded not to forget the player-tracking program for IT poker which I should write someday... perhaps all the sooner now that I possess the tools to do so). ----- buys the Times, I buy coffee at Dunkin Donuts for myself (medium regular, half and half, no sugar) and ----- (large iced, splash of skim, no sugar). The air is hot. -----'s mother is visiting; business with ----- and a little hair-dying for -----.
Come to think of it, i haven't heard
back from "-----," the 50-year-old woman in the personal ad. I
should not be terribly surprised. Lunch: hard boiled eggs with cream
cheese. No salt. Seltzer.