Feel really productive. Have two short stories growing in my head. “Enough Rope” about the abortion and something about Ratliff and that woman. Worked late last night. It was great. Here is something else to remember for a short story. Went to dinner with two girlfriends I’ve known forever. Talked a lot about men, and women and stuff. Lots of feminist rhetoric/feminist talk. But we had an attractive young black clearly gay waiter and at some time during the meal, both of them flirted with him in a very obvious way. Why? What is that about? It was strange and depressing. Thirty-two years old, both thinking they are perfect and so far from it. Looking for validation from a gay waiter who is embarrassed by their attention.
I think they are scared to death. Well, I feel good and I’m not perfect but I know this: I am not scared. I am not muthafuckin’ scared.