Today started out badly, but ended nicely. (warning: long-assed tragicomic post ahead)→[More:]Upon waking, as per usual, I stripped down, walked to the bathroom and turned on the shower, wagging my hand under the stream, waiting for it to heat up. It didn't. The landlord must've turned the hot water heater off*. On a warm day, I'd have braved the icy stream, but not in the frigid temps NYC is going through now. I hate not showering, it makes me feel sluggish and look like a homeless psycho. But I reluctantly dressed and dragged my stinky, shivering self out in to the frigid morn and onto a crowded subway and off to work. And my left eye started to twith and swell a bit, a sure sign of an oncoming cold (long story).

When I got there, I saw that I was staitioned alone assisting the buyers at the front counter, meaning that I'd be doing double my usual work. Then our third seller of the day came in the door and announced that he had a load of boxes for us. When asked how many, he said fifty-six. Our policy with loads that big is that they have to be left with us and we sort and evaluate them between other work and then send a check. So, after unloading his truck in the frigid air, in between the usual yo-yo's I went through them. And to add to it, these weren't your garden variety cardboard boxes but those origami/riddlebox carboard file things that are murder to break down, leaving my forearms an intricate nework of scars and bruises. The first twenty or so boxes were full of absolute shit. Not just boring stuff, I mean, but books that looked like a dog had used them for a chew toy. My inner Travis Bickle was starting to emerge. I sent a text to my man DW saying 'I *need* a drink, dude.' ** He was otherwise engaged, but sent his sympathies.

Around 3/4 of the way through the worm started to turn. We came upon a box of LP's. The Store That Shall Not Be Named dosen't sell records so us geeky employees converged. I managed to nab a Jackie Gleason comedy LP, a soundtrack to a movie I loved as a teen***, a Love Tractor record and best of all, this a promo put out by Nestle for their $100,00 bar. If the weird value wasn't enough, it has some good tunes on it, too. Another box had some framed prints of WWII 'Support Our Boys' type ads that I grabbed up, too.

Then, on eof our regulars, a older Jamaican lady with a line on esoteric math and science texts came in, with a load. She made out well and kicked me a $20 tip. A few minutes later, my pal brujita came by with a belated birthday present of a DVD set of Sam Fuller's early directorial efforts that I'm dying to check out. (thank you profusely).

Re-energized (and pockets fuller) I bought (employee discounts rock), Bruce Bawer's Stealing Jesus a Frank Zappa bio, and a DVD of Your Gonna Miss Me(the Roky Erickson Story) among others. Then I went to Food Emporium and bought two bottles of my favorite hot sauce and one of the big evil chain bookstores for this(some publisher must be tuning in on my brainwaves). and now I'm home. Pips is watching Deal Or No Deal and I'm here posting away. I've got a 12-pack of Schlitz, a pint of rum and some eggnog and a bunch of cool stuff. A roller-coaster of a day, indeed.

*it's back on, no explanation
**sorry for being so gruff, dude, but work was calling. still miss you, though
***it's a fun teen comedy, but most of all the young jonmc identified with (and looked like Ilan Mitchell-Smith.