friday night.
it's hot.
from my windows I can see two palm trees. they're not moving. there's no breeze.
it's hot.
there's a pitiful little fan blowing wanly at me from across the room.
there's mariachi music faintly playing from the street somewhere.
I'm listening to 69 Love Songs.
I just got a card from Eli, who's in Italy.
I'm going to the below-mentioned benefit for Other Magazine in a short while, but I have to find my head first.