the new kate moss does not take long in the stall

the change of environment has done me well and though my feelings have been relatively low, i have had a lot of time to think and subsequently appreciate what i have just done; here i have a whole year to build a collection inspired by the situations i will soon have to face with light-hearted humor: studious with magnifying lenses and countless shots of models from recent collections, exhausted from running around the city to do messenger work, disparagingly yelling at angry customers. i guess it’s not unlike what i have been doing for the past few months, but now there’s more glamour - and now i have to sell it.

yesterday, i talked to one of the managers at zara and after exchanging send-my-loves and polite pats on the back, picked up a hot sausage and walked through chelsea, making all of the playful insinuating gestures one moderately confident homosexual might attempt in passing another of equal or greater attraction. several blocks after my sausage, i stopped on twenty-third to find two cute guys making out with all intentions of slutting it up. the image left me jealous and angry, so naturally after the tall striking brunette turned to look at me for some expectation of lust, my face slowly grew disgusted and full of pity. the rest of the walk was pleasant. i glanced at the gorgeous men in the village and took the train back to brooklyn from washington square.

this morning, i woke up and after having a breakfast of beef gyro and peanut butter balls, i singed my hair while trying to light my cigarette on the stove. you can’t tell much. pull my bangs back and you will find a small patch of frayed hair resembling a barbie haircut accident both in distraught color and texture. let it fall, and it becomes hidden by everything else.

in between everything substantial, there are parties and supermodels. they are fabulous. life feels fabulous when i am there and introducing myself to them. the vodka open bars aren’t bad either, but recently my mind has only been on one thought, or more revealingly, one guy.