2002-05-31 - 6:38 p.m.

We sat down next to each other, me on the way back from an interview, her on her way back from a student union or an art gallery or a peace rally, and we were both reading Bukowski (me: Notes of a Dirty Old Man, her: Factotum) and I asked her how she liked her book and she looked at me like I was insane, and I said �Don�t let the suit fool you, I don�t have a job� and she kind of smiled and then the train stopped and she got off and I thought, I probably DO look foolish.

So I have a job keying numbers into a computer thirty-seven hours a week for slightly more than I pay in rent, which is better than nothing, but hardly going to keep me in the lifestyle to which I haven�t yet become accustomed. I start Wednesday, unless something saves me.

Moving is thirsty work and when we got back we had no money for alcohol and so we drunk bottles of red and white wine that were worth $50 and $40 respectively � I can�t think of any better way to drink pricey booze than spontaneously and needlessly and indulgently, not like these idiots who have to wait for a fiftieth wedding anniversary or promotion to archbishop to pop their corks. Besides, we were only drinking it in the absence of cheap stuff, which is naturally so much better and when all�s said and done, a hangover�s a hangover. We were like three hours late, but thankfully we have dear and forgiving friends.

Summer�s just not going to be the same.

Mornings like today�s, you�re glad to be unemployed.