I just spent the week in Cuba, basking in the sun, and the bikini, and a good book - (Middlesex, in case you need a good one). The shock of being back is kind of brutal. Russell and I tried to go for lunch today to extend the holiday-ing (surprisingly, we travelled well together, arguing only a regular amount, perhaps less) and ended up crabby and dramatic. Now I feel heartsick and like leaving, to go anywhere.

Sar tells me she has big news to tell me. Only, in a twist of my depression, I feel like I'll only feel jealous of the widening chasm of goodness across our respective lives. If you had good news, would you feel excited about relating it to someone who's had a lot of bad news? She must know my happy face will be a fake. Right?

So anyway, vacay over. Officially have nothing to look forward to. Need to get out of this neighbourhood. (Moments ago, me outside, lamenting "I fucking hate living here" as reams of students in Uggs stream by on cellphones. Russell: "I can see why". Right. That's a great answer, considering you're all that's holding me here, by a thread.)