Riding the subway home from work this morning at five thirty in the am, I could not figure out who on the train was starting their day and who was ending it. No one is alert at that hour, everyone looks tired, like they could either just be waking up or getting ready to pass out in their bed. There were one or two obvious ones who were holding a cup of coffee clearly starting their day, but the rest of the people were surprisingly hard to decipher.

By the time I got home, the sky was already lighting up, not in a glorious purple way, no "rosy fingered dawn," but instead the day barely declared itself, a sky of gray, none to different from the sky at noon today. I hung a blanket over my window to try to help me sleep, but there was still a little bit of light that seeped in and my body knew that something was wrong and would not go to sleep easily. I tossed and turned, finally getting a few hours of sleep before waking up at one, selling some books at Spoonbill to make some money and making it to my two thirty interview right on time.

The offices for Advocates for Rasiej were on the ninth floor of the Strand, and of course, riding the elevator up there, I would get stuck along in that terribly slow elevator with Nancy, the scary owner of the Strand. She looked at me coldly and I wasn't sure if that was a vague recognition that I might be an employee of the Strand and that she could exert power over me, her cold stare, or if that is just how she looks at anyone besides rich, old ladies who want a library of nice books they are never going to read.

I got off at the ninth floor, had my interview to gather signatures to get this guy on the ballot, and campaign workers are all of the same breed, so nice, so peppy, so clean cut - the type that look like they've never even in perverse moments thought about sticking anything in their ass - they look like the type that do not even have those perverse moments, so nice, so singularly energetic in that campaign worker type. I think my interview went well and hopefully I will hear from them and get to walk around to people's houses for ten an hour for a few weeks. I didn't even go to my four thirty interview. One, because I was tired. And two, because it was for the Independence Party.

The Princeton Review canceled tonight's graveyard shift right as I laid in bed to nap in preparation for working tonight, so instead I am going to go to Bellwether and a couple other gallery openings and then probably going togo to sleep, a nice exhausted sleep. I was so ready to fall asleep today doing these errands. I love it when you are tired and look forward to getting a good night's sleep. There are few things more comforting, more refreshing than knowing you are going to have good, deep sleep and having it.