Catsitting Mr. Handsome for a few days
I found it really intriguing that so many people found that my post from two days ago on poverty “inspirational” when I know that I wrote it out of extreme frustration. (I actually wrote it while lying down on my couch, practically fetal.) Knowing that it inspired people made me feel better about my situation, even if it did not change my situation.
I have more to say about perception altering reality, but I can’t figure out how to talk about it without sounding like a freshman philosophy major, stoned at a party where they are still playing the Dead after all these years.
I went out with Stefan Block last night to the new Loreley beer garden in Williamsburg, which, early, is quite lovely, and later in the evening is just like any other bar in Williamsburg. We talked all about the things we were working on and proclaimed each other brilliant. (Shut up. We are too brilliant.) I could have nights like that every day of the week.
I have a bound manuscript of his new novel, The Storm at the Door, sitting in front of me and I can’t wait to read it. I have already had to look up a word.
tenebrous: shut off from the light
Earlier in the evening I handed over keys to my subletter for the weekend, a woman I met on twitter. I was particularly nervous about the state of my apartment because I could just imagine her tweeting negative things about it, and I joked with her about it. Jami Attenberg’s apartment is all right, but the toilet is a mess. I actually briefly re-cleaned the toilet while she was there. Which, all right, I can admit it made me seem like a crazy person. But better crazy than unclean, am I right? Right?
Come on.
But in the end, she seemed to be having a grand old time anyway.
