July 2, 2003
An evening out - and I'm having fun, real fun (not just because of the three glasses of Shiraz) when I realize it is time to leave, to catch the train so that I can ensure I'm on a train back into the city before 6 am. What kind of existence is this? There is no point to it - the rhythm is completely off, the focus skewed. Here is another pathway to people of interest in Gotham, and I don't have time to pursue it because of the out-of-kilter demands of work. I must find a better balance somehow.