maybe the ikea 'abandoned lamp' commercial got me anthropomorph...izing appliances - maybe i've never lived somewhere old enough that the buildings predated centralized air. that's not true, but the point is that i can't stop staring at external air conditioners. they look like forlorn pets, or like ebenezer scrooge when the ghost of christmas present takes him to visit the cratchits. it's to the point where i've stopped assuming their falling condensation is pigeon pee - no, it's appliance tears. if i had one at my window, and i probably will, i'll be sure to make it feel included.
another night of writing at the local bar, another place of lonely things. either brooklyn people are ridiculously, uniformly nice (also probably untrue), or taking a notebook to the corner just invites intimacy. i'm not a good customer - i buy one drink and then smoke for an hour - and i don't think i look particularly pitiful: joe has met me here twice, so i have the appearance of friends. somehow everything is free, though, and i end up swapping life stories with the bartenders. largely happy stories! but they keep giving me things, and i don't understand.
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