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OCTOBER 26, 1988

It's raining and I'm limboed again. At a diner called "Donut Donut". It's smoky as hell. I'm being ignored by the waitress, which is fine. Not really hungry, just buying time.

Called about some apartments this morning, but didn't reach anyone. The one on Avenue C and 10th is the cheapest, but I heard it's a pretty iffy neighborhood. Just how iffy, that's the question.

I keep getting these flashes of realization that I actually moved here. It's not exactly panic, but close. It all seems pretty daunting. Probably because it is. But I don't have the luxury of wondering if this was a good idea or not - I'm here and I need to do everything I can to get established. There's no going back now.

Heard about a songwriters group that meets in the village at a guy named Jack Hardy's apartment. Apparently it's been going on for a few years, and Suzanne Vega used to go (before she got famous). I will check it out next Thursday.