Nights working

Another insect in my hair. from keeping the window open, from the porch, from the cracks in the walls, from spending breaks in the alley, from living outside even when i'm not or the worst is when i can't. the girls screamed at it...poor bug. poor girls. poor me for getting angry with them.

One of the dishwashers talking to me about "Joan crawford's tits"
Meanwhile a tree above us is giving my wig a tenant, meanwhile i remember when it was colder out, i dream of losing my wig...only a wig