Five wives.

I’ve been listening to the same playlist for a few weeks now. I’ve turned on the feature that suggests similar songs; therefore, the playlist is growing. I feel loyal to this playlist. It feels somewhat like my manifesto. I’ve gone back to standup comedy. I’m growing my hair out. I’m doing all sorts of things. I’m smoking when I drink. I have a date with a doctor today. I’m calling M more than some would suggest, but I don’t care. I like M. There is quite a bit going on. I’m having trust that M won’t read this diary - he knows about it. But then again, who am I to dictate what he does and doesn’t read? Hi M. I need to write the first letter for S, so he knows about my terrible, no good, very bad date with the male model. Today I had a thought while I was walking to the library to finish my dissertation that isn’t even close to done: ‘I’m walking alone, and I’m not obligated to share this walk with anyone, and how amazing is that?’. I like this single thing. I’ve gotten over the ‘lonely’ aspect of it, I’ve gotten over the crush I had for years (I think), and I’m good at being alone. I haven’t weighed myself out here, I have a feeling that the shorts that I thought were too big when they hung loose, but now expose my belly button, signify that I should be aware of my weight. Not in a negative way necessarily, but I don’t want to lose sight of my health. It’s easy to do that when you’re busy, but also when you’ve spent a long time wanting to look like you do. You try to hold onto it. But it isn’t sustainable if it’s not entirely healthy. I am ok, though, thankfully, I don’t think I need to have that concern. Let’s change the subject. Last night at an open mic, I confused Saddam Hussein and Osama Bin Laden. I was only partially embarrassed, but then I realized I’m talking to a bunch of Europeans, and they must trust my misguided American authority. Although Osama had five wives, Saddam only had three. I should’ve known better. Things are good, great even.