05.07.02 - 6:54 p.m.

Dan feels bad because he wants to do something for me, but how can you help someone out of depression? It's all inside.

Today's excursion was the "Surrealism: Desire Unbound" exhibit at the Met, since it closes on Sunday and it makes me happy to be productive before I go to work. The museum was cool and empty and I walked quickly through the Eastern statues and glass cases, past Rodin's contorted figures and 18th-century lovers, my feet quiet on parquet floors.

The exhibit itself was fine - I finally got to see what Merritt Oppenheimer looked like - but there were only a few pieces that really struck me, that made me pause in my little slow pensive art-walk. That's how it usually is for me. "Sad Young Man on a Train" and "The Bride" by Duchamp (not "The Bride Stripped Bare," but a different, older oil painting!), Dorothea Tanning's "Birthday" and "Woman With her Throat Cut" by Giacometti were the standouts, and "Woman" is kind of cheating since I visit it all the time at the MoMA.

But I love those Duchamp paintings. I really do. He was an insane "respirateur," but those things are beautiful indeed.

By the time I left, the Great Hall was bustling and people were clustered around the Monets as they are wont to do, and I was happy to have seen the museum in its sleepy early-morning private time.

I swear, someday Jack is going to ask me a question and "Because I hate you" are the words that are just going to pop out of my mouth. Although he'll probably think I'm joking, because that's how his mind works. Or doesn't.