I have been on the lower east side for a week now. Every morning I have woken up with swimmer's ear. That clogged pressure mixed with probably just a teaspoon of water, making you feel like an infant with an earache. Am I sleeping to close to the fan? That nightmare I was having must have involved cupping my hand over my ear to listen for the ocean.
Really wicked dreams lately. Old friends showing up to work at my restaurant and predictions of future events and faces that end up not being totally incorrect. Sometimes I hate my clairvoyance. However, it's one of the few things that keeps me responsible.
Ben my new roommate and best friend/little bro left for Portland two days ago for the world premiere of Miguel Guttierez's latest show, Last Meadow.
I got some more work on Saintete and now I'm working on a poetry submission and over editing an essay...somebody stop me.
Ah, and read this while you're at it. Eileen Myles' The Importance of Being Iceland.
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