Diary

To avoid staying home all day, I’ve been wandering the stacks of the downtown bookstore, where there’s also a long table where I can do some reading: a labyrinthine circuit of woodwork on the second floor. One night, I dreamt of doing the same. Round the corner, two books with similar covers on display: somehow I understand that the new print run has arrived.

What if I dreamt something so horrible that I woke up having gone insane?

Boarded up Best Buy, the old Walgreens space for rent, with graffiti’d plate glass windows; a sign in another empty storefront reads FEAR OF BOOF.

Good old music in the cafe and restaurant today: Big Poppa (Notorious B.I.G.), Gin And Juice (Snoop Dogg), something by Britney Spears, Suddenly I See (KT Tunstall), Rehab (Amy Winehouse).

What the heck is going on with today’s rap, pop, and R&B?

Current metal earworms: EPs by NecroticGoreBeast and Corpse Pile.

A woman with a camo topcoat; a waitress in sweats and a tube top.

Someone is struggling with a fundraiser, but there are larger things in the world.

New tiling for the walls of the Bushwick-Aberdeen station, white squares.

A flickering lamppost, hanging under the metal red awning, by the brown mailbox.

The cafe is too crowded this afternoon!

There used to be a duplex across the street, a cute home with earthy tones to its wood and shingles, and even a little cupola. The right half got remodeled into one of those generic cubby box apartments.