Just a few thoughts:

I hate Stephen King's self-promoting, pretentious writing. Shoot me in the face before you tell me what a fucking metaphor is, freaky bastard.

Friday nights in cleaning an apartment really are not so bad. They're kind of gratifying.

I strangely am not broken up over being on TM and not in EV-IL. What does this mean? Why am I becoming seduced by New York? That bitch.

Today I saw this crazy dude walking the tunnel between the BDFV and 7 stations at 42nd St./Bryant Park. He was playing with those Rennaissance juggling sticks as he walked, taking up too much space. From a distance I spied two other crazy people--an old guy in a 65-year-old ladies' running jacket and his super-plump wife who was wearing reflective sunglasses, tight-ass black leggings and a huge fanny pack. Much to my delight, the crazy couple knew the crazy dude and exclaimed, "Hey, Sticks!" And my day was made by Sticks and his friends.

I like reading again. Thank God.

I have gotten thrifty in New York. Minus the drinking and going out. That's never thrifty. But today I bought probably $70 worth of beauty products for $13. I bought almost a dozen books and two records for $7 two weeks ago. And tomorrow I may or may not attend a set-up-a-booth-and-trade-stuff-for-free-that-you-don't-want-anymore fest. Awesome.

Oh, and Amy's visiting this weekend. I may or may not rub shoulders with the bridal fashion industry. Sweet?

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