A live jazz trio is playing behind me in wash sq. Park, but I'd prefer to listen to the jazz in my headphones. Which is not yo say the live guys ain't good.
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New York needs to be tuned out sometimes. It has a way of crawling into one's pores.
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What's with squirrels? What do they really want?
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And what about me? What do I want.
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Too much thought and nowhere to think it.
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A big dog lauches toward the dog run gate.
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Weren't they going to get rid of these concrete mounds (what a fun word)? I think rats live in them.
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I can blog from anywhere. I don't care. Look at my hair.
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Legalize blogging.
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A guy tried to sell me a poem today. Said it would make the world a better place.
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