I went out to the lake last night with Zhora, Vtalik and Chrissy. Everyone was very tired. We had a few beers, smoked a little, and fished. Zhora caught a very small fish and it got hooked through the eye, and so now its name is Pedro the One-Eyed Fish. Vtalik caught two fish, but I forget their names.

Apparently, Paige has left for Denver. She'll be in Chicago soon, though... I wonder if she'll be back in town at all before she leaves for school. It's been too long a time since I've seen her loveliness!

Stayed with Zhora last night. Poor little dude was pretty beat, and he had to wake up to go to work this morning. He got up and took a shower, and I suppose I was asleep if he came back in to say goodbye, because I don't remember that he did. It was a little depressing to wake up in a strange place alone, but he left a cute little message for me on the fridge, so I suppose all is forgiven if he didn't feel like braving the M-Sak's rampant morning breath. Mmm-mm. I do have a toothbrush here now, though, so that should make things a bit easier. I really need some facewash to carry around too... My skin is HATING on me today, and I have nothing to wash it with or to cover it up. I'm not too excited that Zhora gets to see me all broken out and nasty when he comes home at five. Maybe Chrissy can bring me some of my shit if she's not working.

Last night after the lake was a little strange. Zhora was sad; he's very homesick, and his life now is so different than it was in Latvia, or even after Latvia, when he was wandering around Europe being a DJ. He tells me that he was famous enough in Latvia that people would stop him on the street, and he knows what it feels like to hold $20 000 in his little hands and smell the money. He said to me, "It's like a previous life. So many memories." And then he hung his head. He didn't cry, though.

I told him that sometimes, in my dreams, I see glimpses of my previous lives, but I never find myself to be a woman, and so usually I get startled and wake up. He seemed to be vaguely amused; maybe he didn't understand.

Ah, yes, the language barrier is difficult, but he's still learning at an alarming rate, even though he has lost all interest in actively attempting to broaden his vocabulary and hone his grammatical skillz.

Poor Zhora. I've only seen a few people who have ever been as profoundly dissatisfied and unhappy. I told him last night that I'm on medication for depression, and he expressed some interest in getting some for himself. I'm not sure how much therapy would help him, though, since his English is a problem when he's tired and sad -- he is both of these things very often. All the time I'm with him, I'm trying very hard to make him smile, and sometimes it happens. I pity him; I've seen pictures of his friends, and their girls, and the chaste angel-girl he used to be in love with. The Russians are a beautiful race of people, all angles and length and clarity. I feel bulky and loose in face and body compared to them all. I've got my Armstrong nose, my Armstrong eyebrows. I've got meat to protect me from Scottish winters.

He might be moving. No, he IS moving -- it's just a matter of when and where. He didn't come to this goddamn country to sell flooring and piss away his life; not even to recover his bad credit. He came here to be a fucking DJ, and I'll be shit-diddled if you can do that in this town. His father is giving him options -- New York, California. Zhora himself has mentioned the possibility of just going to Chicago, and playing there, and in Champaign and in Peoria. If he did that, I could still go to his shows sometimes. When I have money. Which I never do. Thinking about this makes me a little sad, but I'm glad that he's willing to talk to me and be very honest. He told me last night that he doesn't respect anyone anymore, and when he said it, he had his hand to his face and his eyes were closed; his Visigoth brow was furrowed.

I worry.

A little more bitching, and then I'm done with that, I promise: my appetite is doing weird shit. In the past three days, I've eaten a banana, two slices of pizza, and two french fries. I'm just not hungry, and I haven't been this light since I was in sixth grade. It's not the correct way to lose weight, and already I'm missing a bit of the roundness; it afforded my skin a slighty more firm and toned look. My belly is withering.

Something happier! Here is what the note on the fridge says:
"Have a good day! Wish you good luck!" And there's a big old smiley face in the middle with long eyelashes just like Zhora.

A funny thing: do you remember the way Edward Norton looks in Fight Club? Zhora looks just like him in that movie. What's amusing is that every movie I've watched with him here has had Edward Norton in it. It's strange to encounter vicarious vanity... I think it's cute!

I'm learning a little bit about Zhora's roommates. Both of them are Russian. The girl, I don't remember her name, works at a restaurant in town. Zhora took Ellen and I there, but I forget the name. Swingers? Slingers? Ah, yes, it has to be slingers. Decent place. The other roommate is Igor. I only know this because dude leaves his prescription bottles everywhere -- lots of empty Indomethacin bottles. There's some Valerian root on top of the fridge, and some Nicarette gum. I've never had any. I don't think I want to try it; looks pretty nasty. I think I'll just have a cigarette instead. Zhora was kind enough to leave me three or four, I think.

All right, enough. I think I'll go read some Dracula for the next six and a half hours, and I'll think of something to write to Zhora on that message board.

Edit: I forgot to mention that I got stopped on the street yesterday during my daily walk by an alarmingly beautiful black man. His skin was so dark, he was practically blue, and his hair was long and brushed out and bushy and sweet. But he was a little vulgar after I gave him a cigarette. He asked me if I have ever thought about having sex with a black man, if I've ever given head. I answered him honestly, but then I walked home and left him on his beat-up bicycle. He said he was on his way to his cousin's house to score some [cough]. Strange occurences! I'll always find myself flattered to be hit on, but there was just something strange about the fact that he didn't beat around the bush at all. I told him that he could be my friend if I ever see him again, but that I already have a boyfriend. I guess I don't really have a boyfriend. But Zhora is a pretty special little guy, and I'm satisfied with that for the moment.

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