I’m at a commie bar in the LES, but not the commie bar I went to in 2000 that was underground at a train stop and which probably does not exist anymore. I’m here to see a storytelling show. Here are my thoughts for the day, which I will memorialize for posterity, thoughts being so rare and all 🙄:

1) Chase Bank in Fulton has a stair that is a hidden death trap. If I were ever to need to, I would “fall” on them and sue for damages. However, since I’m already aware of the danger and have written about it here, my plan would probably not work. So pretend I never told you if it ever comes to that. I’ll split it with you.

2) Improv class went much better today. I met the instructor before class and we discussed modifications. There are definitely tiers to class. I think the actors do well for the most part. There’s this reflexive behavior I see…tropes, accents, silly things. Some really funny stuff. I’m, well, ok. Today I had to pretend to be an expert hacker and that was easy enough. Just as long as I don’t have to make too much eye contact. The thing that makes it difficult is the reliance on other people who don’t know you. I assume this gets easier with time.

3) I went to Sephora on 34th today. Every woman who worked there had janky paint by number makeup. Just atrocious. Worser even. Worsetest.

4) I keep asking myself what I’m doing here. Here in this bar. Here in NYC. Here in 2019. Here at all. Existential angst, man. That shit is real. And I don’t have any answers. I feel lonely for a place in time that has long passed or has yet to come. There’s gotta be a German word for that.

5) Why are there so many people having telephone conversations out in the open? They’re rarely interesting or of substance. I crave that which all voyeurs crave…substance and form. It would be lovely to hear a phone conversation that wasn’t banal. It would be lovely to walk down the street and not be slowed down by a lemming who wasn’t looking at their phone in rush hour traffic.

6) Hopefully this show is somewhat good. I mentioned to the show runner that I was from Tucson and he spoke to me like a gold miner/cowboy about calling for a Sheriff’s posse. Hmm…