Last night was awful, but interesting. When they dim the lights it's like the whole world goes inside out and I'll never get used to it. Conversations start in the middle and everything gets too close too fast. Drunk Falton was bad news but strangers were kind. I'd love a time machine. But! Mysterious sandwich man was mysterious fun, and I have a crush on Kickstand, kind of.

Sometimes I sit around predicting the future, and the future is very clearly introducing itself, "Trouble!" it shouts, and I say, "Interesting, let's just see how this goes, then," because I very much like to see how things go. I am ill-prepared for the immediate future. I'm choosing to ignore it because I really ought to be prepared by now. So here I am folding up my things and packing them into boxes. Folding clothes, books, lamps, and records, packing them all into boxes. I've used up all of my worrying time, so I guess it's time to do things.

All night I've been wanting an apple. I have none, so I've been trying to wait the feeling out. It isn't working. I didn't know that I could want an apple this much. It feels like an apple is the solution to all possible problems, but I guess I don't want one desperately enough, because I won't make myself go to the store for one. I tried eating chocolate, but it didn't help at all. Oh, apples. Why do I love you so much?

This isn't going anywhere. What would make me feel better, I think, is something on television with dramatic music and stirring romantic tragedy. I am a sucker for moments designed to sucker people in, like the fireworks in his eye when he saw her across the bar, and the music accompanying the girls with dirty faces and messy hair during the war. I'm so easy. Every single serious British thing that every single serious British cousin said in that last one completely got to me. Yes! What I need is the rest of In a Land of Plenty, so I can go ahead and start being the happiest girl in the world. I can eat an apple while I watch.