dunno what it is or was but the past twelve hours or so have curdled in the pit of my stomach to the point that every action and thought has a thick base of irrational anger that I can't shake, It might be the book I'm reading, or the weather and wind that conspire to collapse my lungs and veins but as the story arc drops alongside the degrees, I find myself imagining nonsensical and elaborate conspiracies against me, solely to justify throwing the little man staring at me on the J train into the plexiglass facing the grey sky over the brooklyn bridge. not that anything particularly horrible or even inconvenient happened in the 4 feet or so in front of me that I can see between scarf and hat; i'm just angry and once the fire is going in this city there's enough fuel to burn it longer and hotter than the damned sun that refuses to make a meaningful appearance.
anyway, today I visited the ancient (1895) coffee and tea purveyor on Christopher street to pick up some green coffee beans to try to roast and 3 empty burlap sacks because you can never have enough. afterwards I stumbled across one of the tiny dominican cigar places from the article i posted, where i bought a $1 torpedo from a disappointed looking owner. Today at ecorche class we placed the adductor muscles on ridiculous femurs. Mine looked like modigliani had snuck in and adjusted them in the night, while most of the rest of the class (down to 6 or so now) had Flintstone bones in every direction but the proper one. I made some pictures of the corrected figures but forgot the transfer cable for now.
Manana coffee roasting will be attempted, bread baking will commence, and laundry must be done for the sake of everyone everywhere unless i buy new socks. Thank god tomorrow is February 29th.
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