There is a glare on the roof right outside my window. I looked at, happy, not shielding my eyes, as I just smoked a rolled cigarette. This morning I read a large chunk of Russell Banks' The Darling, and enjoyed it much more than the chunk I read of it yesterday. There are things I repeat each day. Will I also enjoy them more today? It is a sunny day, warm, and I know that they are few now that it is nearing the middle of September. Soon the green leaves on the trees behind this glaring roof will fall to the ground. A man showed me his dick yesterday, a homeless man named James. Smoking in Union Square, he started to jack off in front of me until a cop car pulled up near. I touched his dick through his pants. It was really large. I am going to work now, will listen to music until I get there, and am hoping that when I take off my headphones, this feeling will not end, that it can be sustained without the soundtrack.