In what has so far panned out to be a perfect day, I went to the library to retrieve a lot of sexy new texts: a whole stack of memoirs (mostly written by autistic people), some short stories by Charles Baxter, Greta Garbo films, and poetry. For more information you should get addicted to goodreads like I have. I learned to precariously sit on my fire-escape and read a book, ate a mango and discovered that some creative writing programs have fellowships to support you while you’re there. Imagine that. Defer loans, work on writing, be moderately unburdened by coursework and teaching— it’s sounding better and better. Now all I need is a glowing recommendation from someone who doesn’t know me yet.

I was reading a book outside of the bookstore earlier and I overheard a mother catch her toddler tearing the petals off a handful of pansies. She leaned over and gave her daughter her complete attention to have a very gentle talk with her in an adult voice, inaudible to me. Presumably she was explaining why the pansies where there and how ripping them up sort of ruined the point. Then she swept her daughter up and kissed her face, “You’ll get it,” she reassured her, “We’ll work on it together.” They were both glowing and I almost teared up but then realized I had used up my senseless crying jags on Joaquin’s death in Ladder 49.

Meanwhile, at the table behind me, two men and woman in their late thirties/early forties were engaged in a very deliberately-worded and elaborately-annunciated awkward conversation. Two of them were techies but apparently one of the men was in theater and just finished directing Cabaret, which, In his opinion was the best directed play they’ve had in ten years. I’m sorry to have missed it. Especially because he kept starting stories “And then I was wearing my costume in public, which of course was a nice gray suit with swastika arm-band and I mean, don’t people know what the play is about? It was a hit movie 30 years ago…” They segued to issues of cohabitation and how hard it is to have a bridal shower because you get so much new stuff. Finally they inventoried their remaining fried chicken when a fourth person showed up and announced that he was, “ready to go to game” and it was revealed that they had been waiting to meet their carpool group for their regular Dungeons and Dragons date.

Bonus Question: Why in the world does a director need a costume?