Theft by Finding - David Sedaris

New York
Last night I went to the park to buy some pot. I told Hugh I was walking to the store for milk, but
my long absence must have tipped him off. I came home to find a sign taped to the front door of our
apartment that read NO DRUGS. He’d put up the chain and I explained through the crack that I had gone
for milk and run into Dale on the way back.
“And what did you two talk about?” he asked.
“Oh, this and that.” The only Dale I know is an obese, ragged-looking dog Hugh and I saw in the
park a few months ago. It was me who decided that’s what his name was, and I refer to him all the
time. “I got another letter from Dale,” I’ll say. “He told me to tell you hello.”
I should have thought of another name, as this did nothing to get me back into the house.
July 1, 1993
New York
Because of the radio, the New York Times is doing a profile on me. Yesterday the reporter called
Amy, who said, “I’m not telling you shit about that son of a bitch until he pays for that abortion he
made me have.”
July 2, 1993
New York
I was drunk and stoned, watching the twenty-four-hour Twilight Zone marathon at three a.m., when
a commercial came on. The man in it pointed his finger at me and said, “What are you doing watching
TV this time of night? You’re drunk, you’re stoned, you’re a wreck, and you’re destroying the lives of
everyone around you.”
It was like he could see me.