Office

The office is where I am these days; that is, the 113 year-old bar in the Centro with my laptop and my cell phone and my glass of vibrant orange Crodino. I've officially become a great big ball of novel-writing momentum, which is why I'm there and not here with ye would be-pigeon eaters but

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Face Off

New York City. Ice and slush on the ground; supposed to snow hard tomorrow; inside Diego's apartment drinking Vitamin Water and eating Chef Boyardee; mentally preparing for Polish dinner in Greenpoint with my former coworkers; 'tis a rough life indeed. Thought I'd do something unusual here on I Eat My Pigeon this afternoon as I

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