Kim Gordon and Thurston Moore from Sonic Youth come in to buy cigarettes, probably on their way home from the show in Northampton I would’ve gone to if I hadn’t been working. Or at least would have thought about going to but wouldn’t have because there’s no one to I could’ve invited along. I decide to ask for their autographs, or say I like all their albums or think alternate guitar tunings are awesome because I can’t think of anything better to say, but I remember the story about Kim Gordon pissing on the desk of a record company president so I don’t say anything in case she doesn’t like convenience store clerks and their countertops, either. I don’t feel like mopping tonight.