“she may be young but she only likes old things.”

songs: monday morning, death cab for cutie; you and only you, the softies; I and love and you, the avett brothers; the sweetest thing, camera obscura; I bet that you look good on the dance floor, arctic monkeys; edit, regina specktor; it’s a crime I never told you about the diamonds in your eyes, the black heart procession.

hair and road

A few nights ago, I dreamt that the public library was open late. It was 12.30 am, and it was packed. I went in and asked the guy at the desk if this was seriously happening. He said it was.

Third time in as many days at this café, where the guy behind the counter tells me my lipstick color is good. I am completely in the thrall of Long Island City. I haven’t left the neighborhood since I got here on Friday, and that is just fine. It has been a lovely weekend here, based chiefly around eating a lot of ice cream, listening to the Thrilling Adventure Hour, and having had no substantial conversations with anyone other than myself and the dog. It feels like Manhattan is super far away, instead of 2 trains that go very quickly.

I’m working on the 100 word story. So far, there have been permutations of 83 words, 34 words, 96 words, but there’s still an hour until this café closes. One never knows.

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