Monday, 16 September 2002 | Hair spray

I don't know how I came to have a bottle of hair spray; I think it must've belonged to an old roommate of mine and got packed inside a box that was put into a big yellow truck driven to New York. Now it's sitting on my desk to my right, poised to aid in the execution of houseflies. It smells strong and sweet and bad, and it's difficult not to aim and fire when a fly lands on my laptop, especially since that's the only time the flies come into my field of vision. So far I've successfully refrained; I have not, however, successfully killed any flies. Of course these aren't the same two flies that buzzed past me at work all day, at least I hope not, but it is rather odd that this is the first day I've noticed their presence at either place.

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1. On Friday I went to see a bad band at a small, half-empty venue. In the middle of the set, a friend of mine (the visitor) actually walked up to the stage and asked the band to "turn it down."

2. On Saturday I drove Ingo's car around my neighborhood, realizing for the first time how close things are. Close, that is, if you drive. I think he's loaning me his car for a couple of weeks while he's out of the country. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with it, if anything at all.