Writing, job, all more or less satisfactory. All that’s missing is some mind-blowing sex with someone like Corey Summers … the fantasy of a porn life is pretty shallow and meaningless and yet seductive. All the more so because of its utter impossibility. It’s a form of escapism that’s pretty harmless, a lot more harmless than watching that Ted Danson sitcom that’s been on for years and yet no one can remember 10 minutes after it’s over.

O I love Andy and he almost smashed his fist into the wall when the phone rang this morning at 8.15 and it was his manager calling for no good reason except to apply some absurd intimidation and he didn’t even get home until 4 last night. He fumed and clenched his teeth and then sat down and cranked out lotsa words on his novel. See, that stuff is good for art. Very juicy details. Just don’t want him to go postal …

Maybe we’ll catch a movie tonight. I should be home by 9. Question is: even I DID start working out, what sort of routine would I do and how would I come up with one? Would I turn into the kind of guy that’s always baffled me?