I want to tell you in full detail how tonight ended up with me struggling away from the kisses of a Frenchman in the lobby of my apartment building instead of shooting pool with the perfectly charming and gentlemanly boy who danced me around a parking lot a couple weeks ago after I left a party at closing time with tears and mascara streaming down my face.
But frankly I am too tired. All of that struggling and the champagne cocktails that preceded it have me feeling spent. It is hard work deciding just to take people up on their offers to be all dazzling and charming and shit. Everyone has something to sell, you see. It doesn't pay to stop at every tent in the bazaar on your way to a holy place.
I need a better compass, a fancier dress and maybe even a new camel. I'm perhaps a little unprepared for this marketplace.
I'll sleep on it. Tomorrow morning I have to be at work for a 9:30 interview with a chick that I don't necessarily have a job for right now. Otherwise I could sleep in a bit and stay up late to tell you about tonight, last night and all of the events in between.
But fuck that. Duty calls.
Bonsoir et bon chance.
angelina
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