i did not have sexual relations with that barista.

So, how are things in Pittsburgh, you ask?

The studio, the one that I live in, is truly a home now. Thing I have never even considered the possibility of owning are now staples of my everyday life. I have my own couch, my own desk, chair, coffee table, bed. I have an espresso machine, a toaster, a microwave. Lamps, shelves, a fan. All of these things I have acquired with my own power, and now they exist solely to improve the quality of my life! Life is wonderful! I am very glad, in retrospect, to have moved into this specific apartment, and to have chosen living on my own over finding another roommate.

At work, I sweat for many hours every day. I make things which are delicious in very enjoyable ways. It's true what they say about cooking, though: it's a very rewarding job. Even on the busy nights, the ones where you swear and burn and cut yourself and feel like you're not even there, like you're just some little thing in a cockpit
controlling arms and legs, manipulating hot pans and food, when you hear about a customer having a dining experience they'll never forget, your day is made. A server came in the other day and told me their customer said a halibut was the "best thing they've ever eaten" and it justified 55 hours a week, callouses and scars, having to teach the FNG (fucking new guy) how to deep-fry an order of calamari. There are few ways to escape having to deal with the real world. I don't deal with politics or business, really--my life is only about making people feel good on a level that has nothing to do with the bullshit of the human race.






So I'm figuring out the guitar on a pretty basic level, and slowly. Teaching yourself is not easy but I've been giving all the time I can to it, playing scales and chords until my fingertips are rough, which is, I guess, how that works. It's fun. I like making noise.

I was surprised to learn the other day that I do not actually live alone--I have a small, gray companion who lives behind the radiator, evidently in some hole underneath the loose carpet. I saw the mouse for the first time two nights ago as I was eating toast. He was crawling around my feet and it surprised me how unafraid he was of the monstrous sneakers he was exploring. Anyway, rather than waging war against that which is not desirable in some peoples' eyes, I decided to name my little friend Renoir and live with him in harmony. Besides, this is not a very expensive apartment.

(artwork by sterling)

~organic food, cage-free hens, better
to know who grows your produce
than who your tax dollars kill