So instead of dwelling on the life I failed to make, I am dwelling on the ways to make the one I live better. I am daydreaming about remodeling, buying chandeliers, and feeding my passion for things rococo. The Marie Antionette exhibit filled me with memories of childhood obsessions with royal 18th century culture. There was a time when I celebrated jewels, frilly things, blue satin, and anything feminine. I just can't live like a stoic in a home with pipes showing. It's squelching.

On top of that I know a lot of people who are rich here. When you know well-to-dos life's more interesting somehow. I love rich people because they are comfortable.

Of course I am utterly and terribly sad about New York falling through. But what the hell can one do? I can eat shit or make a new plan. I chose not to pay crooks so I made a new plan: GET A JOB.

Wherever I turn up I just want to be paid what I'm worth. Money does make life better and I want as much as possible.

I bought perfume and put it in a fancy vile with swarovski crystals and enamel flowers everywhere. Every morning it's the first thing I see and I smile. I get out of bed, unscrew the cap, and dot myself with it. It's simple and it makes me happy.

It's the kind of things like that I want more of in life.