desolation row
i'm in one of my favorite places in the world. i know in enc:dc's liner notes i said snacky was the sake bar to beat. but honestly, the lady that ran that place was kinda grumpy, so i've moved a few blocks over to supercore. where they got the wifi and the cute waitresses. the wall paper is just the black and white print of a cat's face over and over. the music is very bohemian as you would expect from brooklyn bistro: cibbo matto, belle and sabastien, sweater song and now dylan's in the middle of a harmonica bridge. you have to pay cash for the very cheap eats. I was getting cash in the atm in the deli across the street. the waitress that's especially cute came in to get something for the kitchen. she really takes my breath away, wearing her pony tail on one side like that. the girls here takes cues from the willy b fashionistas, but still bring their own flavor to the mix. they're big on boots, black leggins, turtle necks. the cute one's wearing this old man hat, the kind with a snap on the bill. she comes over and smiles this perfect dentist smile. she places on the table a steaming bowl of meat and potatoes in some mysterious heavenly broth. i don't know if the food's japanese or korean. i ask for a little cup of rice on the side. i could watch her pat down sticky rice till the cows come home. they put a little parsley on top and sprinkle of sesame seeds, serve it with a little dish of soy. makes me happy.

they only drawback is that turnaround is the law of the land, and they're not into people lollygaggin about. i want to just kinda hang out here all day and stare at the girls. i sit in the back where i'm out of sight and forgotten, a new york times is beggin to be broken open. one of the waitresses, possibly the owner, is sitting in front of me on the gold couch with the exposed springs. she's sick or nautious maybe hungover, everyone's handing her teas, the cute one came and sat with her for a bit. she looks out the window and down at her folded hands, she looks so sad, she closes her eyes and you wonder what she's asking her insides. maybe there's a baby. she just ran to the bathroom. it's always occupied, but she's lucky this time.

friday i played for the last time for a month. some fans came and yelled my name which was weird, but cool that they showed. i really want kids to see the kind of comedy i like to do, but sometimes theater is a bitter pill to swallow. usually i feel kinda nervous and out of place, because i'm new at the theater, but i felt alright on friday. jackie clark told me a sweet story about one of her students taking classes at ucb because he read that i had or something like that. and then she asked me to be on her radio show that she has with jake fogelnest on the talk radio here in new york. the show was like most nights, i didn't want it to end even though i wasn't 100 percent on my choices, it's just feels great to be back in front of yankees. for some reason after the show i started to feel weird. i hung out at the bar, had a tall shirley temple. everyone was extremely nice, victor had wanted to ask me to a prince paul party but didn't know my number. everybody was invites and come check this out. a friend from cartoon network and dad's garage will be in town on wednesday to play. he was always a good friend to me down south which is why i'm torn. there's a two hour lost that night. i get cable and internet that day. (i wonder if i'll keep coming here, to supercore. i can always make rice at home, i'll cut up some parsley, get some sesame seeds, no biggie. the girls will be missed, their giant smiles like a light house through the steamy broth.) back to my not feeling well, i spent the whole night up, puking my guts out, anything inside me was going out, and the end of it was horrible dry heaves and bile, i don't remember eating all these bitter egg yolks, i'll post pics (jk.) i fell asleep at dawn, wondering what put me in such a way, it was like i had been drinking. which scared me, made me pull the covers up to my eyebrows. i spent the next day recovering, a stop at supercore, i watched some battlestar galacticas.

i played chaos theory, taught myself patience. my stomach repaired itself, i felt like wolverine. i wasn't very good at walking quietly, i just ended up shooting everybody. i've yet to force a guard on the retinal scanner. sometimes i'll kill everything on the floor and go back and forth from the game to the complex 3d map trying to figure what i should do next. i'm told to go to the extraction point but i don't know where that is, so i go over every possibility three times over. go back to where i started is usually the answer. the boss keeps yelling at me in my head, telling me to stop with the alarms. i can't help it there's a spring in my step, it's hard trying not to make a sound. then at about 4am i wrote a song over john's brazilian dance music about girls with wedding rings. i may sound glum, like it's what i enjoy, what i prefer. but it's not true, i'm happy. and a night of torturous heaving can't even keep me from tomorrow. i just keep going.