Today was spent burning my forearms on the oven, slipping the spatula under the pizzas, slipping wads of 20s into my aunt's back pocket and kneading dough balls. Everytime I use the machete knife to cut the pizza into slices, I think of a clock. I would venture to guess that ten years ago when i was first taught to cut the pizza, it was explained to me in relation to a clock. Or maybe not. Might as well have been.

I started a new book today. The Secret History. It's great, so far.

Big ups to KRS 1. Big ups to punk rock. Big ups to Brooklyn. Big ups to pizza. Big ups to my new bike. Big ups to Red Stripe.