I don't want to leave. Don't make me. Someone stop me please.

I walked tonight. I just walked. I walked until I cried. Then I had to stop. I walked all the way over to the east river. That's where I cried. On the pier, listening to the gentle waves hit the old pier pilings. It was so sad. I cried. I used to see water all the time. Water was an okay thing. Water often made me happy. But in the moonlight, the crashing of the ripples against the pier just made me sad and as I turned around to leave, the whole city was in front of me. Every building was illuminated against the newly black sky. It was so beautiful. I cried. I don't want to leave. My soul will not leave. My body will leave. My mind will float inbetween as needed, but it wants to stay here.

Every minute takes me closer to departure. I've already started to pull away. I can feel myself going into hidding. I'm rebuilding that wall I was able to pull down last september. I'm surprised at how fast it rebuilds. It knows where it needs to be and what it needs to protect, so its sealing those places off. I hope I can tear it down again in september. I don't want to hide from New York. But somewhere deep inside I have a feeling that it will be harder to pull it down next time. That I'll tell myself "Why? What's the point? You'll just have to building it again in May." That's when things will be hard.

Returning to LA next summer is not going to be an option. I WILL stay here. Nothing needs to be taken into consideration about that. I will stay in NY. I can't ever go back to LA. I am not me in LA. LA doesn't let me be me.

Today it has been so quiet. It is very quiet behind my wall. I can't hear the outside world. Only my own silent screams of pain as I watch my view of life slowly being shut behind a wall.

The silence is welcome. Noise seems so out of place. I keep focusing on the silence.

The silence of the new bright green ginko leaves sprouting froth from every branch.

I walked into an antique shop. It was a different kind of antique store. Not the kind I expected to find in New York city. It was filled with tin ceiling tiles. Recentlt, I've been noticing tin ceiling tiles in buildings. I thought I stepped into a dream. A man, who worked their knew I was a writer and the first thing he said to me was "Are you getting ideas for your play?" I've never met this man before. How could he possibly know? Maybe it was my mood or the way I was looking at the antiques, he knew I wasn't going to buy, but he kept telling me prices. He was an artist, a painter. His right hand was injured. The tendon had been sliced. His finger had hung limp. What do you do when you can't do what you do anymore? His hand was broken, how did he paint? I would be broken if I couldn't write. It's what keeps me going, moving forward living. I think my whole world would stop if I couldn't write. I'm going to go back. I don't know when. Maybe tomorrow. But I don't think it will be the same in the day. There is something inherently magical about the night.

Before I got to the river and before the antiques store, I saw this building. I wasn't sure what it was at first, but it felt out of place. I just looked at it for a long time. It was a jewish temple. Their was something very old about it. It held something very important and mystical. To be honest, most other jewish temples I've been in before seemed almost fake, like every one was their because it was popular or the in thing. I don't mean to offend anyone. I get a different, but equally odd vibe from christian churches. I'm not very into organized religon. However, something about this place really drew me in. I wanted to enter, but I couldn't. Maybe I'll get up the nerve to go one day. Or I'll ask The Boy about it. I'm not sure what he would know, but he always has good advise. And also, he's jewish. But its the advie that's more important. Also, with him his faith never seemed forced or artificial. I can feel that he believes in faith, not necessarily as written in jewish law, but the spirituality behind it. I tried to find this other temple that is close by that is more geered towards my version of beliefs, but I couldn't find it. It's like it vanished.

There isn't anything more to say. I hope I wake up tomorrow in this mood. This feeling of not existing. Its some how comforting in the sight of the leaving.

Good Bye.