I’m hungry.

There’s a really beat mandolin I saw and should have bought a month ago. Every time I go to the spot where I saw it, the place is closed. I was hoping I could go get it now, and it would offset the annoyance of not having hot water today. Instead, I went out, got hot and sweaty, came home without a mandolin, to a home that lacks hot water.
They are painting the stairway/hallway completely white. It’s unsettlingly bright. I passed by a girl that was wearing a white dress, and for a second, all I saw was a head floating up the stairs. It’s just primer, so I’m sure it will be a really ugly color in a few weeks.
Hey, saturday night, didn’t you just want to go find her and give her a hug? She’d be all like, “why are you doing this?” And you’d be all like, “trust me. You need a hug.”
A guy on the radio just said the art market is the largest unregulated business in the world. He’s telling great stories about art forgeries. He says about 40 percent of the art in the Met is fake or misattributed.
Horns and whistles outside can only mean that the parade has made its way back to the hood.