a party full of ex-boyfriends and ex-girlfriends, and I mean full. Denise was there and so was her current girlfriend and two of her other exes. Alex was there, and the Turk. Jen said to me, "you should try hooking up with someone from outside our scene, so you don't run into them at every party."

Nonetheless I found myself cruising the coastal highway in a dusty Justy yesterday, high on drugs and alpenglow and Spanish wine. And brought Chris home with me, an enigmatic fellow from the semi-distant past and the subject of that recent piece I wrote on bisexuality. Also, a DJ and producer and promoter and burner. Not to mention he's from my hometown.

So much for expanding my horizons.

It was not even that good, to be honest: I was coming down from drugs and mostly wanted to sleep. But he wrote me a poem already, via text message of course because he was transporting pot across the state and didn't have time to email. Something about moonlight and something or other.

I am like this close to calling it off for good. Fuck the mating game.

Le sigh.