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Toothy business

Friday 2/3/23

I'm back in toothy business--got my tooth fixed. It was high--had to be lowered. Even bite, baby.


I didn't run stairs. I likely won't run stairs tomorrow. Don't need to be a hero. Cold doesn't mean a lot until the wind starts going, does it? It's the wind that brings the pain--not the thermometer.


Someone opened a story I had sent them sixteen years ago for the first time. That's how far back the whole discrimination thing goes. And further. Some shitty journal. Sixteen years ago, they saw they had something from me, and they thought, "I hate this man who has done nothing to me, because he's not one of us and look how good he is at what he does. I'm an envious fuck. I won't even open this. I'll show him."


Why did they open it now? Because of what's floating around about me. What's being said in the cabals and the cliques. How I'm not letting people get away with what they had been getting away with.


I'll be working hard this weekend. I'll be working my ass off.


Word is Dylan's Bootleg Series is close to it's end. I don't know why it would be. They can release everything from the 1974 tour, all of the surviving material from the late 1950s into the early 1960s, the Supper Club shows, Oh Mercy outtakes. Why would you stop before you did those?


Kyrie Irving asking for a trade is just about the least surprising thing that can happen in the NBA. What a disruptive guy. He must be exhausting to have on your team. It's always something with this dude. The drama, the bitching. The smartest guy in the room act when he's dumb as a piece of wood. But you have to listen to him and endure his moods and his act. Recently I thought, hmmm, the Nets could be a problem. Should have known better.


I got a Dunkin' Donuts Midnight blend coffee today, black. It was like drinking soot. Was very good. Puts hair on the chest, as they say. I recommend it heartily.





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