I think Nick is mad at me. I don't know quite why. It seems, a lot of the time, that all he ever wants to do is hang out with his punk skinhead friends and drink beer. But he seems pissed at me for spending time with his roommate. I don't know. I think we're going to have lunch today. I hope so. He wouldn't come out last night with us, and I don't have any idea why.

So the last two days I have: gone hot-tubbing, spent a lot of time in Marin, missed Laura, seen ALL of Scotty ALL the time, finished my book.

Wait, that's one thing I wanted to say something about. I was reading this book, about three friends that are all deceptive and lying and so morally reprehensible to each other, and I felt like I really related to one of the characters. I mean, I guess I related to them all in some ways, but one in particular. And that scares me. His best friend stole his wife from him. And he got all obsessive compulsive. He convinced himself he wasn't following his ex-friend and ex-wife to another country, but was just taking a vacation and just happened to be in the same town in France, and that's something I can totally see myself doing sometimes. I'm not crazy. I just don't always know when I'm lying to myself, and that's what I hate most about people: lying.

Scott's not lying. I'm not lying to him, not yet. I hope never. I'll make it never.