baby's first rally on the steps of city hall was successful, i hope; i signed up to roll out in support of city legislation that would defund and defang an especially gross portion of the nypd that was created to face domestic terrorism and has become (surprise surprise) a wildly expensive protester-savaging brigade. i learned that standing in the morning sun for an hour is no joke, so i need to stick to a light sleeved shirt if i'm going to hide my tattoos (is that even a thing, since i don't wear a mask and my Resting Progressive Face was absolutely in every photo and video that day?), and downtown in general evokes the mariko aoki phenomenon, so maybe i should skip coffee (joe: "if you'd taken a dump on the steps of city hall you'd definitely be in everyone's facial-recognition system"). i hope the legislation gains sponsors and supporters this year; our councilperson is considered low-hanging fruit, so i'm game to show up at her office and make the ask in person. maybe we could also hype each other up about the virtues of congestion pricing and luring our governor/senators/mayor into a trebuchet? i don't have a lot of spare time on my hands but seem to be in the sweet spot where momentum breeds momentum. that's been true socially, too—i've seen like a dozen friends so far this month, several of whom *hung out in our apartment,* and i don't yet feel like walking into the sea. i even went to a birthday thing where i only knew the host! i realize how mini-golf all of this is, but it's very easy to tuck myself in a demisocial space where i'm pleasant in passing—like, i don't know anyone's name at the library beyond the staffer who showed me how to monitor the quiet study room—so leveling up to, i don't know, brunch and drinks isn't nothing.
joe is in arizona this week, so i made a daunting vat of chili the day he headed out and have been cranking out lifestyle content in silence; once a day i roll out for an hour to thrift shop or wander through an uzbek grocery store, it's all very efficient. even so i'm still unable to file more than one story a day; that's probably a good thing, i should be making steady progress on the longer-form pieces i've been working on for the past six months (mushrooms at the end of the world) and need to hand over before we meet family in portugal (what the cat saw). instead i skitter off and ping editors: wouldn't it be fun to do a little pop culture piece real quick? the uzbek grocery store has wooden barrels of linden honey from russia that are the size of a toddler's head, like something donkey kong would have thrown during the cold war, and my yearning for one very nearly overwhelmed the fact that russian stuff is not the stuff to acquire right now and joe wil straight-up walk out if i buy any more honey (the trove we've got right now is probably our most significant apocalypse accessory). it's harmless to circle back and look at them, though, no? this is the bootleg breakfast at tiffany's remake our moment deserves.
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