This evening I walked down the train tracks near my house with the last of the film in my Polaroid and noticed this large rusty box of electrical wiring in the tall grass, the blocks of paint dripping down its wide double doors reminding me of a simple Basquiat. Something about it seemed strangely intimate to me, as if it were a sign of someone’s domestic existence there among the weeds: a closet from which they retrieve the day’s clothes after brushing their teeth amidst birdsong and spitting out the residue of dreams over the iron links that softly rumble to speak of an approaching train.

Also this evening, though not on that walk, I noticed a tattered black “His and Hers Hairdressing” sign I had never seen before, a kid who was being a jerk to her mom (two days ago I encountered the same kid being a jerk to her dad, so she at least possesses the redeeming qualities of consistency and fairness), and the fact that sparrows in real life move with a nervous, jerky air that is remarkably similar to the movements of CGI sparrows, and which if I am in the proper frame of mind makes them seem like fragile figments of my imagination. Fascinating.

Additionally, I noticed that saying the word “igloo” (as in “We could build our own igloo!”, in a conversation about making plans for the future) this way is not nearly as much fun as saying it this way, with a long eeeeee and a soft g, like a drunken Frenchman.

Finally, about 10 minutes ago I noticed that Haagen Daaz’s “Triple Chocolate” ice cream, comprising pieces of chocolate truffle buried in chocolate ice cream that has been shot through with chocolate fudge, is in fact too chocolatey. Who would have thought that was even possible? Such is the power of the aware mind.