Again I find myself in a neighborhood in which the closest grocery store (only one in reasonable walking distance) is a mess that does not carry pita bread, hummus, or tofu. Geez, I guess I should be glad they have soy milk. In fact, this one is almost exactly like the one I was going to down South. I am not a health fanatic. I consume my share of junk, but I need these three items.

I don’t feel secure in my new neighborhood. Teenage hoodlums as I lug my heavy groceries home….the ridiculous dogs that jump out and rattle the decrepit fence that separates them from me. I try to be positive about living in the ghetto. In some ways, I don’t mind, but I don’t want to be harassed- and the fucking buses? What a mess. too scarce and everyone a cracked out mess…it’s sad and irksome.

‘Despite a porcine quality, he is quite attractive in his bright white beefy t. Ah, to see him thrust…’ I thought as I discreetly watched the thick Latino guy on the northbound 3 bus. I was going up Burnet to get to Monkey’s Nest, where I am now and where the writing meetup is at 7. I haven’t been in months – glad to not be working today and to have part of a new story to workshop. I’m torn about trying to rush and revise and use it for BU. It doesn’t seem advisable to use such a new story that hasn’t been polished, but I think it might end up being something readers will like better than “Tear Chaser”.