6:45am– Minimal movement. The days are getting longer and slower as the week progresses.
7:30am– Widow’s peak. Mine wants to reach its hands to the sun so I have to figure out how to tame it.
8:12am– Joseph’s coworker. He notices his coworker across the train car. When we get to the next stop, his coworker moves to the next car. Offence is, quite honesty, not taken.
10:30am– Made-up characters. I’ve got a couple of new stories in my head and I’m trying to get them out onto the page.
12:26pm– Mulberry and Vine cashier. He told me he loved the sheen of my outfit– I love specific compliments.
1:30pm– New Yorker. Going to The New Yorker Fest this weekend, and I received my pass. It looks like a press pass, and I harken back to the days when I wanted to be a reporter in college. I hated talking to strangers.
3:05pm– Tourists. Everyone doing hip-hop squats in order to get themselves in with the World Trade Center in the background.
6:15pm– Woman on the train. She makes casual conversation with me on the train about the train schedule and inefficiencies and yada, yada. I nod and engage very little. I wonder if I’m her first contact in a while. I wonder if I ‘m affirming that common assumption of older folks: that I am a millennial and I don’t know how to talk to anyone and where’s my phone everyone get down HAS ANYONE SEEN MY PHONE? She said goodnight to me at 59th.
7:10pm– Sister. She asked how things are? It’s a question I’m still thinking through.
9:10pm– Broccoli pancakes. And yes it’s good, and not I don’t hate happiness.
10:10pm– At a show. Just kidding, my head is on my pillow.