8-31 Su 10:10 PM
From Derek's house.  I don't know what his last name is.  I feel like a geek writing.  We're playing pool in the backyard garage.  "Good try, Babe,"  the husband, Ben, said to his wife, Debbie.  They're trying to help her play.  "Do what you were doing," Yuri said.  "Nice shot."  Oohs and aahs.  I feel conspicuous.  I'm just writing what everyone says.  Jazz music on the dusty, paint-spattered workbench.  Yuri sits under the dart board.  Dimona says we need a recorder.  She's talking about me.  "Where are my cigarettes.  In my purse."  "Oh, I love to drink."  "Can I just hit everything over there?"  "Just break up all my shit for me, please."