“Yo Doug, it’s Larry. I’m standing here with a 12 year old prostitute and a garden gnome and we wanna know where you are.”
I was pretty good at Halloween this year.
Listening to a lot of this while I work on my novel. Enjoying the exercise in letting myself write total crap so far.
Pt. 2
Every once in a while I feel compelled to post pictures of 1970s Robert De Niro on the internet. So, deal.
“I should be buying you champagne.”
“Well, it IS the Champagne of Beers.”
For chrissakes have a cuppa tea
This will be one of those crazy months, when Murphy’s Law will prevail: If it can happen, it will happen.
Only A Northern Song
“Special falafel” and Werner Herzog’s corkscrew poppin $3 chardonnay in the park. Refillin my trusty water bottle a.k.a. best investment of 2009. The East Village is often magical in this very particular way, for me.
I ran down the street screaming loud enough to attract the attention/kindness/bemusement of strangers. Frozen PBR at a semi-normie bar & the ceremonial first bite of scallion pancake in guido town. So many italian flags, wrought iron doors, & statues of the virgin mary. Drinks appearing 2 at a time, including when I explicity didn’t order them.
Walking slowly away from the cops and my memories get vague. “Your exact words were, ‘they call it antipasta, I call it free food.” “did I really say that?” “More like yelled it.”
Karaoke in brooklyn where strangers remember me from last time I visited. They say I was in rare form; I say let’s make it anything but rare. If you didn’t know, now you know.
