MONDAY
9:12 a.m. Last day in Palm Springs. Weed.
1:07 p.m. Should I move to California. The waitress at King’s Highway Diner brings me a flute of champagne. I love champagne at a diner. And time doesn’t exist here, she says. She says that when I tell her it might be too early. It’s never too early. In California you just do what you want.
3:37 p.m. I sit by the pool and think about everything that’s ever happened to me.
9:05 p.m. On the red eye back to New York I listen to Kate Bush’s Sexual Healing on repeat. I feel beautiful. Tripping on shrooms changed something.
