B O N D P H O N E.
Words and pictures by Chris Lamb.

I don't have a day job. My trial period at the site ends tomorrow and after that there's nothing, no more chance to prove myself. Some other folks get the chance to prove themselves - a much shorter chance than me, and I should feel good about that - and then I find out if I get to write or not. I'm trying not to think about it, to make it some one else's problem. It's almost working.

It's starting to snow.

I have a ten dollar ticket to a rock show, twelve dollars, a few fistfuls of silver change, and that's it. A week between me and knowing if I write for a living with wonder bread and pre-sliced cheese to hold me; there is no day job. I believe in the Zombies. I believe in jumping without any sort of parachute or net. I am ready to fall. I believe all this and am still a little scared about what comes next. Don't think about it, imagine wind in your hair and ears and everywhere else it can squeeze between and let go.

It's starting to snow.

Mo needs a proofreader. David will talk to the guy that needs an editor and give you frozen lasagna in exchange for ground up coffee. I did this for May though July, eating when I could and sleeping when I couldn't. This doesn't have to be so bad.

It's starting to snow.

Right now therel s the rock show, walking down Houston in the biting cold with Patrick. There will be dancing, and cute rock show girls, and most importantly there will be the rock and roll. Walk past the Mercury Lounge towards the Sunshine to see what the midnight show is this weekend, and it starts to flurry. Flurry turns to fat white flakes that don't stick and don't stay, that last long enough to spin in orange street lamp or halogen headlights. This is better. It doesn't last, but it's better.

Febuary in New York, and it's starting to snow.