Where's My Head At?
Crap. I’m in hell right now. Moving uptown tomorrow, running on nothing but grim determination. The contents of my life are scattered around the apartment like so much projectile vomit. Where did I get all this stuff? I’m sick and tired of rollers and cans of paint and boxes. In twenty four hours it will all be over, God willing.
Leslie did fall ill after our Sunday with Emma. I managed to dodge the bullet.
The birthday bash was impressively debauched. More on this after I get settled.
Went to my first not-so-naked loft party in quite some time last Thursday. Saw an old friend, drank Hennessey, played cards and listened to some Nuyorican-style poetry instead. Yeah, there was porn on the telly but the hosts are in the business so it was strictly an analytical viewing.
Les & I had a quiet dinner with Emma last night. Rosa Mexicana. I highly recommend the place.
The other day Les had a coughing fit on the train and a nice woman rubbed Leslie’s back and offered her some tissues. A Chinese dude was playing his erdu on the subway platform today. Amazing Grace. A middle-aged woman dropped a small wad of cash, carelessly leaving it behind as she stepped onto the uptown train. A young man retrieved the cash and returned it to her, smiling. Such is the holiday spirit in New York.
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