Today I accidentally wandered into a halfway house while dressed as a pioneer. This is in no way figurative. The homeless people looked at me like I was an alien, then I realized the BU theatre was the building next door. The quirks of art modeling are neverending.
I'm still sick, I think, with a lingering infection, and I'm starting to feel like I'll never be better but let's not dwell on negative things. Some people appreciate when you know the possessive of "Chris" is not "Chris'" but "Chris's."
I'm done with 89 Turner Street in Brighton. Locked my keys inside the swept and empty pad today. Saw old friends from Starbucks, Mallory, Leah, Andy, Brendan. Saw my awesome ex-neighbor Sara. So many people to miss.
Somerville will be much better once I sell my table. I've got two features booked so far in 2008 and an old poem of mine's up on Zygote in my Coffee. Novel comes slowly. I just wish I was writing more.