woke up this morning. it was warm. fuck yeah. smoked cigarettes sitting on the damp wooden posts of the 38th street house. played with kyle and lauren's new puppy who screams like a deranged monkey. they're thinking of calling her nia. waited for the 40 for half an hour, as usual. went straight to the bowl, gorged myself on a breakfast of semi-freddie's croutons and hearts of palm and damn good juicy tomatoes. then, reeking of garlic and oil, i made my way to the bulk counter and saw my free organic walnuts hook-up. he was happy, i was happy. made a playdate with dylan and his tatoos. gave myself a rash eating so many organic walnuts. gazed longingly at my hapa checkout counter crush and bumbled my way through yet another hapless cash/paper please transaction, gave caitie cota's boy the thumbs up. it was hot! walked down telegraph. said hello to Fred (Kamal) and his twelve daughters and one son that all look exactly like him at Fred's market. jokemon told me the same joke about hay horses. i laughed. ran into fayez and joycelyn, saw melissa b., missed the nice old guy at Ritz, they said he quit. stopped into amoebas of course, told nick leslie i would be back in hopes of scoring with his generous register discounts. kept my mittens in my pockets all day. forgot i even had a stupid cell phone and missed three calls. felt lovely. tonite i'm meeting adam who will be working the door as always @ 924 for oscar's show. haven't seen marcos since the paper transaction. tomorrow zoe's bartending at ruby, nick's playing a party, and i will be drunk either way so what does it matter where i am? oh but it does, it does. sunday i will finally go see the david ireland exhibit i've waited so long for. opening reception at worth ryder on monday. john fleshie's playing with his new(!) band at the parkside on tuesday. wednesday is daniel's screamo band battleship at le stork alongside jason and anup who i filmed so lovingly at their first show two months ago. thursday is the two gallants with the 400 blows which is such a weird combination at both. theres a rumor that bell hooks and fuckin' joyce carol oates might be reading. fucking joyce carol oates. foxfire saved me at nineteen is all i can say. the list goes on and on. and i haven't even talked to eileen yet! hi eileen. fuck kant. fuck meyer shapiro. fuck merleau-ponty and german romanticism. it feels good to be home. fuck fuck yeah.