Well, now it's three plus months later. In the intervening period, I've embarked, rather against my will, on a relationship with a thoroughly unsuitable boy. (That same cheapskate.) I'm sure his lack of respectability will become manifest in the coming days - for now, suffice it to say that I have major qualms about the whole endeavor. To say nothing about having become the creepiest sort of serial monogamist.
I live in Greenpoint now, with the ever-present threat of pogrom hanging over me, Damocles-sword-style. The landlord (who has a decidedly rapey air) informed me this a.m. that he "needs access to my apartment" tomorrow morning. I must obviously give things a thorough clean. Luckily, have strung a large length of bark cloth across the entrance to the "bedroom" nook, affording me some minimal privacy. Why have I never seen an electric bill, by the way?
Guess where I am now? Cafe Grumpy. Besides having a really gruckimish name, Cafe Grumpy is the closest spot with IT. It's big and airy, has a book exchange and hawks patrons' art. Music's kinda all over the place, too. Not really my scene (as we say), but it's the setting for more than its share of Missed Connections and I'm angling for one. I've been making eyes like crazy but a quick check of Craig's List has returned no dice for either "Cafe Grumpy' or "Glasses." While we're on the subject, how come no one in the waiing room at my shrink's office will ever meet my eyes in a conspiratorial fashion? I'm forever twinkling at people.
('I Walk the Line' is playing now. I hope Slim is being true to me in San Francisco. I daresay; he is a rascal, but very good-hearted. Well, now that we've established that we're not in an open relationship, anyway. Which I thought was fairly obvious but which his father described as a "classic error of judgment" on his son's part. Anyway, I got a funeral's worth of flowers out of it, plus the loss of three lbs in tear weight, give or take. But that was some time ago. Some day I'll tell you about it. Gosh, we have a lot to catch up on! Did I mention that GK4 (my former fiance) and I are simpatico again? Or that British David has moved here for the nonce? Readers of my Paris blog will doubtless rejoice.)
I got a haircut yesterday. (Must remember to change my facebook status to 'is newly shorn' although in fact trimmed and shaped is more accurate.) Monica, the hairdresser, does a terrific job, even if Maeve thinks she was born a man. (I don't think so. Maeve is my brother's flame and a good friend besides.) I learned two things about Monica yesterday: 1. she was married before. 2. she loves Nascar. She and her boyfriend went down to Georgia, devil-fashion, so's he could be grand marshal of a race. (I wasn't clear on a lot of details, but that's okay.)
I just took an antidepressant. Delicious!