Sitting in a center city coffee house typing from their computer. It’s glum. Rainy.  Full of two dollar muffins.  I woke up at an ungodly hour this morning (nine a.m.)  and then got on the bus soon after to come here. 

A woman with red, withered, hair got off on Market Street clutching her ‘hamster coat’ as Dave put it. The tufts of different shades of brown fur were looking a bit ratty pulled up close to her teenage white-trash effect.  She looked vaguely familiar, but I’m not sure why. I thought about Natural Born Killers.

Off to search for dads gift.


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