Abuse

I dreamed I went into this boutique with the disgusting name, “Abuse,” which I thought only some fashionista could come up with just to be shocking. Nevertheless, I was looking for something specific – trendy little fingerless gloves, like a cyclist or Bob Cratchit would wear, only cute. I looked around at the sparse racks of expensive items. There were some gloves hanging on hooks, but very ordinary. The clerk was unhelpful. Then I felt around in the pocket of an overpriced jacket and pulled out these little softly knitted fingerless gloves the color of buttered rum ice cream. I tried them on. Sweet! And marked down to $1.98, too.

I have no idea what this means. Maybe better off not knowing. (Btw, I'm not aware of any actual trend to wear fingerless gloves. I don't know where that came from.)

Speaking of abuse, here's my horoscope from The Village Voice:

VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): Your role model these days should be the vulgar, debauched writer Charles Bukowski. He was poor most of his life as he worked endless odd jobs, but he managed to publish 50 books with titles like Love Is a Dog From Hell and Play the Piano Drunk Like a Percussion Instrument Until the Fingers Begin to Bleed a Bit. Here's one of his typically inspired passages: "It's not easy to juggle a full-time job, a pregnant wife, and a troubled child, but somehow I still managed to fit in eight hours of TV a day." Be like Bukowski this week, Virgo. APRIL FOOL! I was just messin' wit' you, dog! I don't really want you to be like Bukowski. But I had you going there for a minute, didn't I? And that's good, because every now and then—like right now—it's damn healthy for you to fantasize that you're a vulgar, debauched writer.

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