Still no apartment. That's okay. Sleeping in the living room of this space is fine. Only real drawback is that it has been since Sarasota that I have masturbated. Starting to think nasty thoughts about good decent people that stand near me on the subway, about what their mouth would be like around my cock.

But I do have a job. I start working at this too hip juice bar tomorrow in Williamsburgh, on Bedford Avenue. It should be fun. Stop by. It's called Squeeze. When I got the job today, Tom Petty was playing over the stereo. I was sort of singing along. It was such a perfect moment. Tom Petty and a job in a really cool place.

Last night, Brooklyn Film Fest volunteering, free booze. Tonight, Lawrence Ferlingethi giving a talk on "What is Poetry?," somewhat inspiring, more so cool to see the literary figure in person, more free booze, and there will be more exciting entries that are not lists of what I did. That will come when I have my own apartment, my own room at least, and when Niki does not need to use Cassedy's computer to use Photoshop.