did it really look like despair? The actor turned to me and said "Don't despair."

“Hard as diamonds. Like diamonds through butter.” A cucumber loses its neck. The severed green bowl rocks from side to side spurting blood before being unceremoniously cleared from the table by the back of a large dark hand. It falls screaming into a tall, metal trash can she pumps with her foot as she slices.

She holds up a sheet of white paper and cuts it straight down the middle. “Diamond-edged blade.” Making filets of green meat like a sushi chef. I notice the cucumber is soft and puckered. How crisp the cuts of the knife make it look. You’d never know your vegetables were rotten.

My face feels rotten with coffee. I just watched a famous actor’s backpack and pizza while he took his two-year old to the bathroom. At first I thought I knew him. Everyone thinks they know him but then I asked “Are you an actor” knowing he would say yes and myself not knowing what else to say but “Oh.”

I don’t know who he is. I feel somehow on a lower life tier than him. Like public. I want to give him my headshot but that would further reinforce the fear within myself that I am impressed by celebrity.

Shit. Sad. Knives. Wonder why. It’s so hard. To get a yard.

The truth is I’m homesick and restless. I’m pushing and trying to make my life better. Last night I accidentally ate a maggot that was in my bag of chips. We have roaches, ants, moths and maggots. I live in a trash dump and last night I stared and stared into the screen of my video camera (a relic of more prosperous times) at the green yard and the red dog and a younger me running around and smiling (even singing) and I looked at the walls of my loft and the floor covered in ants and crumbs and paper and records and trash and…

anyone who doesn’t get homesick is soulless…or homeless.