2003-04-28 - 1:26 a.m.

My weekend was all over the place. I kissed the girl I think about three times a day. She lives in New York. I don't.

I worked for twelve hours and made a hundred and twenty. Model-making is some tedious, fun work. I wish I had a tape recorder going. ``Is that smarmy English humor, Yousef? You might get yourself shot. You need to learn how we do it here, bitch.''

I lifted weights when I got back to my place. I like the way my arms look when I work out. I'm glad for mirrors then.

I wish I didn't keep checking to see if she's called. I wonder how long I'll keep doing it.

My ears are ringing from the music I played in my car on the way down. I love loud car music. It makes driving into a game.

Bridgett emailed me, said she's sorry for being out of touch. I don't know what to say to her. I just want her to like herself, and that's the one thing I can't do.

Job searching for the summer. No passion there.

Thought that made me laugh: picturing myself dancing to Radiohead in my apartment. I'm not very good but I like to dance. Especially to music that's not very good to dance to. I feel alive today.

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