8/29/00 3:43 pm
now i feel the words coming -
Starbucks on B'way at 102(?) St. - used to live up here - shared the -----
couch with ----- for a few weeks in the early summer of '97 - she worked here, fucked
guys who worked here, god knows how many others - Colombian - rich flavor -
shake of chocolate, dash of cinnamon - B. Stroustrup, impenetrable high level
slavery - a slab of pure slack cut out of the thin air - this afternoon, this
hour anyway, is mine.
I had troubling dreams [cut to dream diary].
2nd cup of coffee. Outside the sun has been obscured by clouds and a wind is whipping up. The Buddhist statue that survived Hiroshima in nearby. I was telling ----- about it the other day... I imagine the club is fairly dead, but I could be wrong. ----- is probably there today. It's now 4:08. My second attempt to get an HIV test at the Riverside Clinic failed today. I just couldn't get myself up out of bed when the alarm sounded at 8am this morning.
Troublesome sleep, conflict resolution. The all-nighter (Sun-Mon) has again ruined my sleep cycle. I will have to have enough discipline to get up and go tomorrow early. I think the friends bug has me more upset than it should - why should my entire world come to a crashing, confused halt just because a computer program fails to behave the way i expect it to?
We form an interesting picture:
myself and three other young men here in the lounge area of Starbucks. To
my immediate right, one is writing in a journal using a fountain pen and a book
whose pages are unusually broad. Two others are working on laptops.
I'm using the Palm IIIc with portable keyboard, feeling very James Bond and a
little hipper than the others.