| Thursday, August 8
manhattan is beautiful when you fly in. all neat and organized. gridded and partitioned off perfectly and symmetrically. twinkling lights everywhere. if you are high enough you can see the entire eight mile strip lit up. sam said that new york is relatively dark on sunday nights. when some of the city lights actually get a night off. i wonder what that would look like. one of the things i miss about the city is how everything is open all the time. new york is also kind of fun in the summer. despite the sweltering heat. i probably can't complain much about the heat because i was lucky enough to only have to ride on the subway once (thanks sam and brian) so the heat wasn't terrible. sleeping in until noon or two helped too. the last two days i was there, the skies were perfectly pale blue and the clouds were plastic.
as always, new york was filled with friends, food and fun. and deep dark talks. and lounges. but no clubs this time around. thank goodness. i'm all clubbed out. i like the lounges though. i didn't eat at any of the usual places. no hot dogs. no republic. no sushi. very odd. but that meant we had a smorgasbord of mcdonald's fajitas, mexican corn, puerto rican chicken, amaretto cheesecake, falafel, and who knows what else. i miss street vendor peanuts.
amit had his moving out party on saturday. and then five of us had his moving in party on monday. which consisted of me and babbs being jammed in with the furniture while sam, vivian and amit rode up front, careening from 55th to 112th, hitting every pothole on the way. amit rented the most bootylicious moving van ever. everything was falling apart. we could see the brake lights click on and off from inside the van. and let's not get into the steering gauges and implements. which were missing, detached or wiggling around with reckless abandon.
babbs did his poetry thing at a little bit louder. and got mad love. as he always does. some of the other poets weren't so good. at least in my humble opinion. but it was an open mic so that's to be expected. i'm sick of love poems. just because it happens to you doesn't mean that it's the most important thing in the universe. and sex poems? unless it's good. stop it. then again, i'm discounting the courage of these people, who get up in front of a roomful of raucous people and open themselves up. that's deserving of a clap or two. or one.
i miss having too many people around. i miss wondering where we're gonna eat because we have fifteen people. i miss parties to go. i miss making stupid memories just by being. i don't think i stayed long enough. but i never do. think. that i'm staying long enough. thanks caroline and leslie for parking and actually coming into the airport to send me off. who does that anymore? usually it's just a drop off and a quick whatever and a goodbye. caroline, you're swell!