19 Sept 96 
 
New York, New York it's a hell of a town di dah dah di di dah dah dah.   
something like that. 
 
Well, I don't know why I've joined two exercise groups, ballroom dancing  
and tai chi (and don't think that all of it is relaxing...I'm stinky,  
sweaty, etc. and my thighs hurt after doing both).  I get plenty of  
exercise just going out shopping.  (Been shopping? No, been shopping.)  I  
went 10 or so blocks in one direction to get an air mattress from an army  
surplus store, then went home.  Then I went 10 or so blocks in the other  
direction to get milk and bread at the farmer's market.  And then that  
night I met up with a couple of people I hadn't seen for 8 or so years  
and walked 10 or so blocks around looking for some reasonable bars.   
Anyway, on any given day I do a hell of a lot of walking.  How is that  
going to help me when I get home?  Will I walk the 8 miles from home to  
Crabtree?  I don't think so. 
 
MMMM, real creamery milk.  Leaves that lovely fatty residue on the sides  
of the bottle. 
 
And so, Brad and Barbie should be on their way.  "Just a few more  
hours".  In two weeks, Stuart will be here.  Next weekend I'm a lector  
for one of the Masses.  The soup kitchen starts on Monday, which happens  
to be Yom Kippur.  Carey got a mentorship with a dermatologist who seems  
to be specializing in this bizarre skin disorder that does stuff to skin  
elasticity and makes one's skin velvety.  Or something.  Anyway, it's  
obviously genetic (because noone has been catching it, I suppose) and  
Carey will be chopping and replicating genetic material to go look for  
the rogue gene (you'll never catch me, coppers!) 
 
My life has transcended being a sitcom.  I'm living in a novel.  That  
never ends. 
 
And all of you are characters.  Watch out, I may try to make money off of  
my life one day.