Sunday, 11/23/03 - 1:15 pm.
I'm cleaning up Freud's square-fishbowl. I love it that he's, for the most part, responsible of his own hygiene, though.
I'm going to do all the christmas decoration this afternoon.
I dreamed I knew Brad Pitt. That thing of dreaming about having famous people as your friends is tremendously remarkable.
A friend of the family died of anorexia yesterday. I'm a little in shock, but everyone was expecting it.
D. was my world indeed, at least for 10 seconds; it's a moment I probably mentioned in this diary (I'm sure I have) but I won't go back a year of entries to look for it, because I don't want to place a date to it.