The city don't know what the city has got.

Do not underestimate Virginia Woolf: an awful lot does depend (did you know she and William Carlos Williams shared syntax?) on having a workspace of your own.

Libraries here open at 10 on Saturdays, and, well, let's just say I wake up a bit before that. I am not trying to take type-A cred there. It just that the sun comes up FUCKING EARLY here.

So what to do until 10, after the bath is taken, deodorant is applied and the clothes are on? Important note: we are busily preparing for Noah's Flood up here. That means that when I arrived at what is, this morning, the Big 80s Coffee Shop (I get my kicks above the waistline, sunshine), and found that it opened at 8:30 and it was only 8:23, I had to go nextdoor to the big chain sandwich shop to get something to fill those few minutes. Honest: I was more interested in the dry spot than in the cherry danish--really.

Then at 8:37 of course there was a new temporary sign up about how no coffee or Big Eighties for me until 9:00. Then one of those little frowny faces, as if that might stem my torrent of profanity.

All of which to say I regret my somewhat self-righteous and relieved tone of yesterday's post, where I suggested that being a temporary transient might make me a better worker, because less screwing around on the web.

When I wrote that I had not anticipated trying to read about fascist hierarchs in Italian while listening to La Isla Bonita! Not to mention the table next to me, with a self-involved graduate student describing the brilliance of her recent publication to a prospective student.

So I may blow this pastry stand sooner than planned, to hit the library when it opens. Of course that means another umbrellaless mad dash through campus. Think dry thoughts for me.