sitting in a landlord's office is so weird. none of the furniture ever matches. there are always bizarre secretaries who are either too dolled up or not enough, and there's always some weird little yammering man in the next room. he's the landlord, of course. you have to sign some shit and it's all nerve-wracking because it feels like you're signing your life away, as andrea put it. getting out of there is always such a relief!
work was work. lots of re-stickering. very tedious and asinine. not feeling the book-selling spirit. after we closed i slipped off the L at morgan for a secret incognito drink. i exited at harrison and walked to the narrows. there weren't a lot of people around which always makes me nervous, but it felt good because i wanted to be alone. i wrote a little, then i rolled a cigarette and jammed out of there.
it keeps getting hotter outside.