08-12-03 - 9:34 p.m.
i told him yesterday that i was selling my house and leaving this place; it was not a lie. months ago, before the 'boy and his failed plans, i threw a mental dart at an imaginary map and it landed on a dot called fernley, nevada. sometimes, particularly on sold-out weekends when enthusiasm for my hotel runs to an all-time leona helmsley low, i am already there; a spiffy double-wide, much like the one i inhabit now, on several acres of sand and tumbleweeds. no ocean. no seagulls. a horse. a mean dog. a job in sparks or reno; keno runner, front desk clerk, cocktail waitress. something with the least amount of responsibilty, something i leave behind at the end of day. i will count tips. i will make snow angels at tahoe. i will finish a novel. i will paint my bedroom yellow. and i will learn to fall in love without sacrificing my heart and soul.