My job at the subrocket is getting more and more tolerable. I go in and out of being so frustrated I want to quit and being a satisfied, jovial employee. It's good money for a bar job so I can't complain too much, plus the opportunity for social interaction is much better at a place like the subrocket than anywhere else on the strip.

There was a decent band in house last night, a local bluegrass outfit, I worked early and got off around 11 so I spent quite a few hours listening and socializing. The singer was really cute - short blonde hair and blue eyes piercing into the crowd. I saw her staring at me (or at least I wanted to) and I would casually glance back up at her as I stood by the side smoking my cigarette in a consciously 'cool' manner. She sang a song about a good man in blue jeans. I was wearing blue jeans.

I talked to her a bit during their set break and ended up staying until the end of the show just to talk to her some more. I tried all my sweetness and tricks to get her to come out with me for a drink or perhaps back to my apartment but it just didn't work. Perhaps my drunkenness was too apparent. She smiled as she walked away to help the band load equipment, "See you around Dean."

I walked back to my apartment alone, cold, smoking cigarettes at a furious rate in order to keep some feeling in my hands. The snow that got dumped on us Tuesday is still on the ground, slowly melting, though at this point it's doing little more than to freeze my feet. I got home at 1am and made myself some vodka and grapefruit juice when ChI called.

It was great hearing her voice. The way she spoke I felt like she was still here calling from her place. She sends news of New York being bleak now - and she expressed her persistent annoyance with the goth scene there. "It's so tired and uninteresting, not like when we visited a few years ago." She asked if I got her note and I replied that I had, at which point she joked that she did it half jokingly and half serious. She wanted to, "Turn me on without any possibility of an outlet." To which she added, "Have you fucked klepto-girl yet?" I laughed and replied, "Yeah, but she kept moaning your name - I couldn't take it." ChI thought this was hysterical. It was a good conversation. She misses me, I know she does.

Dean