a very lanky man got on the F train at 4th avenue today. the train was crowded with very tired post-Coney Island kids and moms and dads. the man had a red and yellow striped shirt and blue pants and red high-tops and a red rolling suitcase. slowly he made his way through the aisle and in the center of the car, he pulled out some balloons.
silently, animals were made. there was a cheer every time one was completed. all kids turned around in their seats to watch. everyone in the car was smiling.
the man came back through the car with red hat in hand. at least a third of the people put in money. a pair of guys near me gave him a ten dollar bill right before he exited at carroll street, and then started estimating how much the man received. "he probably makes twenty five bucks every time he does this...he must be making one twenty an hour." "not bad."
many cross-country flights later, in which we find out united premium service means "free pillow and blanket, but no food", we have obtained an apartment. we'll be living about 2 blocks from derek's former place, between duboce park and haight st, and the dog will be so happy. i will be so happy because we have concrete floors which is great for dog hair. oh, the dog hair.
now to find a storefront! of course we want something small, cheap, in good condition and in hayes or the mission. hah.
we have SO many boxes of books, and crates of art. that's the bulk of it, really. sadly, architecture and design books are oversized and printed on very heavy paper stock and weigh (literally) a ton. not sure where they will all go in the teeny new apartment.
the other unit on the ground floor of my bldg is the oldest independent queer erotic press in the country. california, i have missed you.
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