SUNDAY.

I checked out Jim and Eoin’s studio today in Bushwick. Because I am a terrible friend to Jeso and have never been to her Jefferson St. loft, I’d never been to Bushwick unless you count that time I went to some artist loft off the L Morgan stop to have lobster with Lobster Man in 2005. Six years later I made a return. I had a Bloody Mary with Jameson in it while I was there, so you can pretty much guarantee that I will be back. I’ll also be back because the men have this badass face-heptagonal-sculpture-wall-sconce-type-thing that I am really into and want to do something with. [if you click through on their website you can see what I’m taaaaaaalking about].

I also had a few nostalgic moments about robot hands, which is now defunct because Jeso nor I have time to conceptualize things like blood spewing action packed dance anymore. I generally feel at peace with that non-decision decision we both silently made about this, but maybe seeing the badass heptagon face sculpture made me think that robot hands should not have died such a cruel, careless death.

Today was good, despite the dickface who used all 6 washing machines at once this morning. I was so angry I could have stuck a bag of dog poop in his clothes, but I didn’t. The day started with Earnest licking my toes that were not covered by bedsheets, and ended with giving the stinker a bath, because he smelled like something died in his fur and something needed to be done about it.

I’ve been practicing making that face the past few days. It’s not anything new, but I feel like its effect is heightened by the absence of my eyebrows behind the bangs that are now constantly poking me in the eye.

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