After exertions, he told me more about his life. He is, of course, involved with someone, blah blah, they’re breaking up, blah blah, or maybe not, blah blah.
With the sort of froideur you only find in people in glass booths or servants of minor European royalty, he told me to take a number.
It may have been my sympathetic manner, it may have been the badge that says ‘Cock’ that I wear on my lapel, maybe it’s Maybelline, who can tell, but Ido soon began to tell me scandalous stories about his busy sex life.
Maybe everyone thinks it’s his costume for Purim, a Bacon painting of a Screaming Pope.
I discover that doing nothing is more fun than having nothing to do
A man, Sharon, comes over. He’s wearing a kippa, which I find quite sexy.
It was like the movers hadn’t packed me, they’d archived me.