Surreal. Intense. Ridiculous.
Sat at Waverly Diner alone over a cup of tea and unwrapped the first almost-real copy of the book. Cried a little. Tried to read/enjoy as a normal, not an author. Found a typo! Had a heart attack. Got an email response that it’s an easy fix. Dunked a cheese danish into the tea. Told my old, Spanish waiter that I was reading my very own book! He patted my head and poured me more water. Wondered if it was painful or perfect that I was experiencing this moment all alone. Decided on perfect. Left ten bucks and got on the train. Rode the A four stops home, reading more. Pondered if anyone was thinking, “that looks good.” Maybe they did.
Now sleep.
