i got my fringe trimmed by a man who looked like a builder. i think i could have done it better myself; with my teeth.

i need a hug. i would also like to soak in a bathtub until i am a prune and then lie in the sun to dry out like a raisin and then perhaps eventually if i lie there long enough i'll just become raisiny dust and blow away over the sea. i'm in new york, the site of so many memories that echo around the spaces between the buildings and linger in the air's fragile tension. it feels funny being here; i feel a bit more homeless and insecure than i did last time, and also a little sad. i had a funny experience the other day when i saw someone i used to know. and i've been thinking about home, and about my life and how i don't know what i'm doing. i am also starting to find living out of a suitcase a little difficult because it all becomes a bit claustrophobic and possessions become tiresome and i am tired. it is very hot here, too, but it is humid heat. i used to be unable to tolerate this sort of weather but now i don't really care, i have not the energy to be concerned by it. or a lot of things. it's like walking around in a large damp blanket all day. on my first day here i had two showers and brushed my teeth four times. somehow it gets into your mouth. yesterday emma and i went to the gorgeously musty westsider bookshop and i bought three books: Vonnegut's the sirens of titan; gore vidal's messiah; the tell-tale heart and other writings by edgar allan poe. the sirens of titan has a particularly amusing 70s cover, and the book is lilac and the edges of the pages are green. we went for a drink or eight in the evening and emma saw a mouse and went outside, but i didn't mind it, i feel for the little things. they don't bite, do they? we saw a rat the other day in the subway, it was nibbling on an empty polythene food container, tearing it rather poetically to snowy confetti that was scattered all over the tracks. today i am a little hungover and have not eaten anything and it's going to rain. i would like to sit in a cafe and read one of my books and be alone for a little while and wonder about the mystical child-adult transformation that apparently occurs when you turn twenty-one.