I take amphetamines and think of myself as a character from a novel; everything I think is pure but everything that you think is dull and tainted. I meet bartenders and fall in love, because I have now taken more amphetamines and feel so intelligent that I'd be a privilege to meet, let alone get to know. I talk to random people at the bar, and drive them to get food-- I've now had more than I should've had to drink, and I will miss last call because I'm trying not to appear as lonely and desperate for friends as I really am. I tell them about my life-- one girl is a photographer from Germany, the other is much too old for me. For a moment, I'm convinced they'll invite me back to their place and pretend they don't realize I am as lonely and desperate for friends as I am.

I take more amphetamines while my car is backed in and they re-join the party. The bartender is now gone, and the rowdy crowd bobs and jerks through the exit. I go to bed, most likely to take more amphetamines and pretend that I am asleep dreaming of more interesting things than I have to write of.