Today’s soundtrack: hang the DJ, hang the DJ, hang the DJ
Today at 11:52pm: a rarity: having a long chat with an old friend


At work you have to engage in stupid corporate banter. In the hallway this morning I saw Helen picking papers up off the floor.


ME: Need a hand?

HELEN: Not a hand, no. I need a brain. Ha! Ha! Ha!

ME: I haven’t got one to spare! Ha! Ha! Ha!

HELEN: Ha! Ha! Ha!

ME: I hate you.

HELEN: (in a dark voice) I would kill you if no one was looking. I would kill you with scissors.


In retrospect I probably imagined the last two lines, yeah.

Mike’s been away for a month, shooting a job in Japan. Last night I went to pick him up at JFK, and on the way there I had the most beautiful moment.

After veering through the scum, dross and slag of traffic on Delancey I hit the Williamsburg at speed. Everyone was on the outer crossing and I miraculously had the entire inner crossing to myself, for about half the length of the bridge.

Stick, slam. Gas, stomp. Volume, clockwise. Rocketing out of Manhattan across an empty bridge is a rare pleasure and I got it up to 75 by the apex. Panic on the streets of London / Panic on the streets of Birminghammm....

I know 75 is chump change, pussy money to you west coasters, but in the W’burg’s ridiculously narrow lanes bordered by concrete dividers it’s the rush of the week.

I got my comeuppance on the Van Wyck--some douchebag in a Toyota almost wrecked the both of us. 100% his fault. Were it not for my panther-like reflexes we might have blah blah blah. And also blah blah blah.

Tonight I treated myself to pizza for dinner. Not much of a treat I guess but times are tight and I’m tired of eating my own crappy cooking. I try not to eat junk food but pizza is fucking cheap and filling.

Last night I had to go all out ‘cause a friend of mine came in from out of town. She’s from L.A. but I met her in Tokyo and now she lives in Chicago. And is interviewing for jobs in New York. Talk about frequent flier miles.

In Japan I crashed at her place, I can’t remember if she crashed mine. I slept on her floor. Her apartment was like mine, a couple tatami mats and nothing special; but now the law firms she’s interviewing for are putting her up at the fucking Paramount. I wouldn’t mind sleeping on the floor in the Paramount, even in the lobby.

Schedule’s finally starting to pick up! Doing a couple college gigs next month (gotta prepare) and participating in a reading this month. Also a film student friend asked me to audition for her short. I don’t think I’ll get the part though, ‘cause when it comes to acting I don’t have much range. My only acting specialty is going into a corporate environment and pretending I don’t hate you.

Last week a photographer friend asked if he could shoot me for a project he’s doing. I told him I’m not photogenic--I’ve got Mike’s test shots to prove it--but he says that’s even better. Says he’s tired of shooting models and making people look good. I guess the idea is to just shoot some regular joes and hey, I’m a regular joe. A little on the emaciated side but whatever.

Early this morning I trotted down the subway steps with my coffee. Ahead of me, instead of the inky blackness of the empty tracks I saw the shiny surface of the train sitting in the station. I understood I was going to miss this train, that I’d never make it through the turnstile in time.

The train took off, and I waited for the next one. On the platform I ran into Shady’s friend Dana. We both had the signs of our little morning commuter routines--she clutched a book to her chest, I had headphones on--but we sat next to each other when the train came and made small talk. You hear about that Korean guy shot up the UN building? Ain’t it a shame.