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A shockingly — beautifully — cold day, late in October. I don’t feel very well and I haven’t sleep enough. I’ve been drinking too much. I jumped rope in the courtyard of my apartment building last night at two in the morning because I had too much energy. I’m drinking a bone-broth now and listening to two pretentious English guys talk in their posh accents — loudly enough for everyone to hear how posh they are. It’s funny the extent to which people go to distinguish themselves — the extent to which we need to stand out, even in situations where our behavior otherwise indicates that all we’re doing is fitting in, going with the crowd. I bought a sweater at Goodwill because I didn’t dress warmly enough. This is life: crumbs swept from the table of Time. My eyes hurt from staring at a screen too long. This happens every day. I can’t help it. I love the cold, it makes me want to roam around the city all night. Now that my work hours have changed, I stay up late — 4 or 5 in the morning. It feels natural, but I also have now idea what’s natural anymore; there’s no natural anymore — the new natural is no natural. The temperature goes from tropical to freezing in the course of a week; the leaves still haven’t changed colors. October doesn’t know what it is and neither do I.
