My dinner right now consists of food that was left over in some conference room. Pre packaged salad, the ain dish in the aluminum tray in the toaster oven just gave me that little ring.

My subway ride home was packed with some amplified characters.
First there was this guy with a dead hand. Okay, it was a dead looking hand. He was reading the financial times. His left hand was just so perfect and clean as if it were made out of wax. He never used it, it seemed, except when he had to reach out with it to give it to the Korean girl who did his nails. And boy, did she do a great job. These nails were very nicely pushed back and showed their white moons. The glossy lacquered look probably was exactly what he though he needed. It was even more amazing as a contrast to his buttery, softened whitish skin.
The woman next to him was in her late forties, I guess. Her manicure looked as if it had been applied to freshly melted toe nails. Thick and strangely shaped, used and abused.
She was reading, and I wrote this one down:”The Great Goddess of Egypt.” In the paperback edition. She was not very deep into it, and she seemed more interested in the way what she looked like reading it than actually finding out what it was about. Or at least this was what I thought, at first. It appears that she was just looking around, just to check out the situation. Her index finger went up to her left nostril on a serious mission. We are not talking about a brushing moving of the nose-wing. She went to town. She went really deep. She twisted and turned. She really dug deep. The train was in the fifties, and she was really deep inside… when the 66th street stop came she had her hand out of her nose, but now she casually, just very much in a way as if she really did not care. Well, she fed herself with what she just had found in her nose. The Egyptian Goddess reader really ate that stuff she found in her nose. What more was I supposed to see tonight?
I left the train on 79th street. I mentioned before that I have recently been really obsessed with that little palm device. (I am actually writing this entry on it.) and so like an old man who feels drawn to a Harley Davidson dealership, so he can buy some stupid chromed extension of his exhaust pipe, I found myself in an electronic store holding little card readers and synchronizing cradles. Around me were people who said things like “no maam, this monitor will not work with a mac,” or that really short thin man shouting out the words: “does anybody work here?, does anybody work here?”
I realized that this whole experience was not really worth it, and so I bought the cheapest thing in the store, which was nothing and just left… (Oh, this past sentence really hurt, I know… more about it just below.)
I walked home. from 79th street. No big deal really…
Though there was an accident on 80th. It looked not to good for some of the people involved. The Audi had the airbags out and was on the right side of Broadway. That plastic van on the planted middle strip had a broken axis and some other serious damage. I guess this was also the reason why police had blocked off the entire area. The ambulance was just one of a few to arrive there… it looked like a bad day for the cars.
People on the sidewalk were holding court over who dared to be responsible for this mess that was probably the pinnacle of their Tuesday experience…
I was glad to be home. The Restoration Hardware catalogue in the mailbox contained some objects I would never be able to fit into any New York City apartment, which just reminded me that there was California and all the states in between.
The lady who was a video producer and I thought lived in the penthouse, got out on the second floor, the same floor where the Super got out. They played this game of looking invisible… but it was so clear that they went to… …. hack?
I just took off my shoes and did not even turn on the AC. Just wanted to eat something and finish all the work I never managed to finish during business hours.
I spiked my red grape juice with so much grey goose that the drink is not even really solid red. Not even as red as that tomato sauce on the food that was born to be eaten in a conference room.
Is this what my mother’s blood looked like when she almost died because she managed to thin her blood out of even being blood?
I am not even sure I can think about it clearly right now…
And this might explain some of the incoherent sentences above… Or if you think there were any brilliant ones, or maybe daring ones, then God bless the spirits, because they make us more daring writers. Except that most of us do not dare to write… irresponsibly…
This has been a bloody Tuesday thus far.
The aluminum tray is now semi empty in front of me. The second glass of “grape juice” is begging to be “refilled”…
I think I will need to take a little nap before I manage to actually upload this little stream of multily distilled simple thought onto the … where?…
Please drink responsibly…