Rose to greet a gray and chilly Feb day and down to the corner immediately to get The Voice and then a call from the Met, the other Met (the museum this time) saying they may have temp work of their own (seems all roads lead to Met) within their hallowed halls, so tomorrow I’ll head there to interview and type-test. Bfast w/Dex of flapjacks and juice and he leaves and I organize briefly, then out! Hit the streets with my mission held firm betwixt my teeth, downtown again and w/49 others (a completely different 49 however) filled out the basics and then back uptown to midtown (if that makes sense) where I could have been on TV had I only known or held an opinion concerning some latest mideast bombing thing… but I didn’t, so over to 55th Street French Bistro to drop a resume and a smile, then back to TV crew to beg some attention but no, because… “We want people who know about life.”  So, tail tucked, I’m back in the aluminum worm thing heading north to home where I lick my wounds, regroup, examine my situation, eat Raman + onions + mushrooms + toast + apple juice and I’m off! Back into the worm, down down to Lion’s Head, this time, to meet with S and C and so-and-so (senior editor of Spin Magazine) and T (sister of S, also a temp typist [aren’t we all?]) for drinks and semi-networking conversation that goes nowhere, really, but includes good drinks and some good laughs (or maybe vice versa). Then up, up, up to 125th to find out that apparently, Tony Somebody wishes to speak to me about another job (glory be?), so I’ll call him Thursday (tomorrow?).