eastville west

I've been in America about a month. I work at a restaurant called Mas, more or less. I've learned to serve bread with makeshift tongs fashioned of two forks, to align the silverware slate with the napkin ring, but that may not be enough. At home I cook kale & hearty soups and apply to hedge fund jobs. My mom alerts me to news items relating Wall Street to high modernism. I hone my communication skills. I self-start.

In these lean times I mince my words, I hedge my puns. I'm reading a book about text messaging, as if anyone read books anymore. New York puts one in mind of verticality; nowhere else are the metaphors Up and Down so literal. Little value is placed on simultaneity, on repetition. I feel hedged in. Maybe I'll become more of a quant, or obsessed with death (again).