14 April 1998 
 
Like bacterial colonies to the lazy housekeeper, we are to the gods. 
 
I am a cruel creator.  I let dishes sit for a week, some even with liquid  
in them -- nutritious liquid bearing sugars and protein.  Little bacteria  
squeal in delight and clump and divide and enjoy the spoils.  But before  
reaching their peak odor, color, and size they are heartlessly wiped away  
by the Dawn.  and hot water. 
 
Alas, cruel fate. 
 
Better not to have even been teased.  Better to have stayed single and not  
gone mitotic.  Better not to have blossomed, colonies reaching for each  
other to form a solid skin over the pot, bowl, chopsticks. 
 
And soon the dust mites that live in my bed, if they don't hop to safety,  
shall soon share a similar fate.   
 
The inevitable fate of those who live where one's mother shall soon visit. 
 
 
In other news, I'm wearing contacts today, which I rarely do.  I hurt my  
nose somehow and am relieving it from the burden of glasses.  In olden  
days, my glasses never even touched my nose, being removed only if I got  
sunburnt cheeks.   
 
News of the city -- so I'm walking around, past the parking lot  
aromatically decorated with a hundred pine tree shaped, heavily perfumed  
pieces of cardboard.  A couple of hard rainstorms and they still have not  
lost their stink.  Bleh.  Past the Uhaul, decorated for Nevada, "Area 51".   
That's it.  It may seem cute, but I am not supporting any company that  
promotes Area 51, which only distracts us from the real conspiracies. 
 
Like pennies on the sidewalk. 
 
Then past Broadway, where a man is pulling a laundry basket with a leash  
-- it's full of sleeping puppies.  Let me tell you, New York is a place  
where one learns to cart it around.   
 
Just a normal day in New York. 
 
Oh yeah, something fell down in Yankee Stadium. 
 
I'll keep a running tally of "failure of structural integrity" in the  
city.  That's two these past two weeks.  One fatality.