(02/14/01)["I don't belong here."] Anastasia invites me to a real estate social evening. 3 women. Ann, Anastasia and a 3rd in a long . Smoozing. Some business dresses, some fancy clothes. It's like we are at an art gallery room. I see a man I used to act in a play with him. I remember a touching moment we had at some other gathering like this. He had a series of miniature oil paintings his father had painted of a piece of property he loved. Vibrant Van Gogh like paintings. Black crows flying up off a straw field, a whirlwind of straw rising to the sky. The color red. Other paintings blues and purples is sky and sunset. Cobalt blue. I find some paintings that remind me of that time. I see Perry sitting alone by a wall. I walk to him and share these paintings with him. It is tender and sweet and sad. He's a bit plump and older now. Anastasia comes over and I say I'm here because she insisted I be there. Perry says you look like you belong here (dressed up, smoozing). I say sadly I don't belong here. The only part that means anything to me is your paintings and us talking. Perry looks sad and goes away. I say to Anastasia I get so hungry for someone like Perry. Oh, I know he's probably an alcoholic and not right for me. But I so want that connection. Anastasia gently touches my arm and says I know. But I love you. I say I know. Friends. But I want THAT kind of love. We walk out the room into the moonlight where the silvery dresses of the women and their clients waft around. Anastasia says I know one room where you can have your feelings. We go to a museum room where beautiful cobalt blue and other colors of flat artistic bowls are displayed. People, sad lonely people, make ritualistic circular motions around the edges of these bowls. One woman croons once I made a metal one thin out. I see 2 older men looking at photos of his father's paintings. The father had died the last year. They mourn for him. I with wild sadness circle and circle the bowl with my dancing hands.