finished the very clear and very bitter book on clinton last night and a book by mtv books called lit riffs, where famousy writers write about famous songs, self indulgent and awkard mostly-- some redemptive peices though including a tiny little memoir by jt leroy about going to a dentist as an addict and a v. over the top meloncholia as camp peice by hedi (last name forgotten saved it) (so thats 2+3)

got out matthew collings book on old masters (hogarth, titian, reubens and velaquez) plus one of dave thompsons books on hollywood (i cannot seem to get the fucking biographical dictionary of film, b/c its reference everywhere)

pay cheque in, still worried about martin (his money, and the time of his money, and the awkardness of asking and the desperation of place, of the bouncing all over, trying to find home, not being able to afford living unless i am some kind of parasite & how martin keeps offering, so i shouldnt be too offended)

also will eisner died--never a huge deal for me, admired his ability to work until the end though.