: D. in his extra-large blue pajamas, gets orange juice from T downstairs; walk to Kaiser, run into M. strolling her son, he stares at me with big, curious brown eyes; waiting room in the SW corner, two well-groomed men, one taps his foot nervously while the other is ushered in; what I must look like, red-faced from walking, dripping coffee from my fingers, flannel and dirty jeans; weigh-in, 191 lbs, srsly?; heart-rate reads 92 which I mistake for my own but, as numbers flash and disappear, I realize it belonged to my predecessor; spray-gun thermos of liquid nitrogen; still early enough I go to Nijiya market for kewpee mayonnaise, salad dressing, tea, curry, and melon pan; he stands alone smoking a cigarette, blue flannel shirt, speed-acne, slight tilt to his eye, on the bus he flips through a sketchbook of inked octopi, stubble along his jawline and chin, a tilt to his lip, maybe no shower after a booze flipped night, feels like Friday; falafel with A. and run into C.; MetLife blimp, the image of Snoopy looks like a mix of Orville Redenbacher and the I.R.S. Records man; though I had 7 hours of sleep I feel hungover-exhausted; meeting about Stealth Seminars; snap a pictures of J.’s California Veteran’s statistics; ride the bus home; left-over chicken parmesan, Fringe and The Event; R. comes home, she shows me her work clothes for tomorrow, flannel blue pajamas and Cookie Monster slippers; “You’re gonna wear your nude Steve Madden heels, right?” “Oh, yeah! Oh, yeah! No question. I was just 99% about the outfit, you know what I’m sayin’?”
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