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October 9, 2008
Continued from 10/8

C, the mouse, couldn't be more aggressively non-descript if she tried. I place her and her lank shoulder-length squirrel-colored hair, wire-frame glasses, pointed nose and chin, lipless mouth, eye-dots, and spare, ass-free frame slouched on a folding chair at about 32. She's taking the class so she can sing better to her baby. I wonder if my eye-roll is audible. Later, when I discover she's an East Village resident, I change my perception of that neighborhood from one of swirling psychedelic color to one whose palette runs the edgy gamut from beige to tan.

Continued on 10/10