Rode the Cyclone at Coney Island. Screamed myself hoarse, as a means of communing with kitsch and propriety, it’s just what one does.
Spent an hour watching the walruses (walri?) at the aquarium. I want to come back as one. Biiig, squishy and waterproof.
Bought some peanut-butter M&M’s at a local deli, the Chinese guy behind the counter wetly sneezed into his hand and then picked up the pack and slammed it back down on the counter, proudly annoucing the price of 75c, as if estimated by weight. I think he just wanted to touch it to see me cringe.
No one got beats like Missy. The Cookbook is going to soundtrack my indian summer. Till it’s time to segue into Leonard Cohen et al.
Have decided to quit french toast. It’s a nasty habit. You think it’s a meal but it’s just bread bathed in sugar syrup, with a sophisticated name.
