October 3, 1991.

I'm taking part in a Jewish holiday. I'm with a man, a
distinctly Jewish man named Michael Conrad. (I know of no
such man in real life and no not even know if Conrad is a
Jewish name.) He tells me my mother should have paid him for
half of the event which cost $150,000.00. I laugh it off
uncomfortably. There is a stage in front. (We are outside).
Michael lifts me up and down so I can see properly. I can see
his wife up front, colse to the stage. She is a Portuguese
woman, a sad looking woman dressed in dowdy clothes, mauve pants,
a white, losse blouse. She looks very much alone.


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