I genuinely thanked her back. I don't know if she actually knows how much she made this day possible by being a gentle kindheart. I wanted to tell her. But it's a bodega grocery store in New York City, and she has heavy customer traffic in need of tobacco contraband and Diet Coke swill to deal with and shouldn't be saddled with the mental breakdown of a major freak.

I slowly chewed away the sweet skin of a nectarine.

I should have done my own laundry today. But it would have been impossible coping with welfare mothers ingnoring their litter climbing on everything and saying the preretard mini phrases they have programmed from their parent's full blown retard phrases. Also the ubiquitous middle of the road rap/r&b musaq that thunders in most shops where underpaid hoodrats work, would make me spray the place with powdered detergent while screaming at the top of my lungs for the world to shut the fuck up.

So, unhappy Latin people will have to count out twenty-three dollars and fifty cents worth of quarters tomorrow when I reclaim my clothes.

This evening I tried to piss off my television by not staying on any one channel for more than five minutes for about six hours. Pulled every nose hair out my face with a pair of tweezers while doing so.