Today’s soundtrack: come on Daddy, face the future
Today at 2:17am: in my apartment, sweating



Why am I:

- down on my hands and knees scrubbing a secondhand off-white leather couch at 12:30am.

- drinking Red Stripe on a fire escape watching the cars slide past five stories below. The space was at the top of a five-storey walk-up so I earned this view.

- at a bar on Avenue A listening to thumping hip hop with no one to dance with. Tonight we’re a tricycle and I’m the third wheel, steering independently. California Kirk and his squeeze look happy so I shoot a

It’s like a frame from a French movie, no?
Oui.

- sitting in front of the keyboard staring at the monitor. I go to “File,” click “New,” and then...stare at the cursor blinking back at me. Keep blinking, you little bitch.

- scooping dried mangoes into a plastic bag at a “wholesome” grocery on Broome Street. Eating these throughout your day is a great way to make all your shit--cell, camera, Zippo--all kinds of sticky. At the end of the day when I’m wiping everything down, I feel like I’ve got a five-year-old son. The worst part is, it’s me.

- walking around and becoming obsessed with puddles.

- cooking the same dish every night, over and over again.

- staying up late for no good reason.


Fuck if I know. Why is the sky blue.