Classic NYC Story

In retrospect, I think that’s what was playing in his mind while his passive-aggressive sulking about his worthless house guest was coming out of his mouth. Mind, this particular worthless house guest was just wagging her perfect booty before his conspicuously undeserving eyes, and had just an hour or so prior cooked without having been asked…

I think I didn’t want to see him. I think if I knew he was coming I might not have gone. And that would have been a shame because it was a great fucking jam session. Better than last time. Much better.

when I started this blog I had just moved to canarsie to get the hell away from him. My reasons for liking him had dried up and were replaced by reasons for hating him. No, I’m not that fickle; he is. He had stopped being himself. And now he’s taking care of me while I’m sick.

A poem about perpetual motion

I passed by the old man in Times Square. I knew he would be there; that’s why I went. I dropped my scarf into his instrument case as I walked by. I thought it was funny. When I came back for my scarf a few minutes later, there was money in the case. My scarf brought him good luck, he said.

I got in at just about seven am, still reeling from a bit too much rum at a time when everyone else in my God-fearing pseudo-suburbia neighborhood was chasing down the Penn-station-bound railroad while clutching to a thermos of caffeine, probably wondering whether I had been fucking Prince Charles last night.

I’ve found that the trick to being polite to strangers is to smile and respond but don’t break stride.

It’s not that I dislike to pace alone; I’d leap at the chance if it were truly possible. I enjoy my own company. However, nature abhors a vacuum and so do men who seem to think that the space created beside me needs to be filled by their vapid pick-up attempts. Ugh.

Now I am pacing through my house in the dark, from the kitchen to the living room to the office and back, while drinking a mug of the gourmet gevalia mint tea I brought with me here. I have a confession: It’s spiked with Cruzan Vanilla.

I noticed three snowmen while walking on E103rd today. One of them was missing his head. One had a curtain rod for one arm and the spine of an umbrella for the other arm.