they pulled my hair at charm school.
they
stole my guestbook during
rolecall.
when you scan the radio + November 7th = leave a msg on your machine
+ NYC is crumpled brown leaves, girls in oversized dresses Friday night at Sam's birthday party, coughing fits on early morning G train rides to work. (Strange croup-like condition I am trying to ward off. In vain, it appears.) Today it is unseasonably warm. We walk Atlantic towards Park Slope, derailed at 4th Ave by marathon commotion until we finally realize subway underpass will let us cross to other side of street. Admire hundreds of red-faced crazy people. (Seriously, jealous, can not imagine running more than 3 miles anymore!) Breakfast at Beso. Search Beacon's closet for pants for Ben. To Manhattan for Etherea and the Strand. Sidewalks crowded with coatless strangers. Small dogs being pulled along by fussy ladies. Boys in skinny pants and tight t-shirts frown over neat piles of cds. Play: iron & wine's cover of Such Great Heights
Ben doesn't find electronic/drum/something/or/other cd he was looking for, but does manage to stump me at unfamiliar intersection with his usual round of: What direction are we facing/what street are we heading towards/what is the closest subway stop? Am paying attention, mind you! Still, can't tack down all of the streets in my mind yet. Find the Delancey stop for the F. Back to Brooklyn. Back to Sunday nights = Ben practicing w/ band in Dumbo while I type up imaginary letters on old Underwood instead of new short stories.
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class
notes, file of pom-pom
ghosts!
