Well my kittens, a night of jet lag and doctor martini's proves that the city really does never sleep.
The last few days of the holiday were truly ridiculous, I've been mulling over it like wine and I really think that sunday was the best day of my life. So far in pondering of the past I am yet to recall a better day, although moments may occur to me. There have been close seconds, although nothing really takes the cake and grasps the pizza.
I think it was because I was reunited with both a dear friend of mine, Sailor, and the city which is both dear and feared. There really is nothing like seeing an old friend again, especially one that is dear enough to don a peacoat and a grin brimin' with teeth. Then there is the friend who freezes me to the marrow while wandering around soho, and then apologizes with the fruitfulness of riteaid.
It doesn't make sense to adore a skinny frame on either gender, as neither exemplifies the optimum form of fertility (which is the bases of romantic love). Alpha bias and photoshop.
Sunday :
Get up still on california time and wander around the flat I inhabit when in the city looking for a bottle of water and a comic that I wanted to reread. Head over to my cousins house and pontificate on the various aspects of Honey Crunch consumption. The thing about honey crunch is that, due to its puffed shape and hollow interior, it is a delight to crush (or indeed, crunch) with ones mouth. The light grasp that is afforded between the roof of the mouth and the tip of the tongue is a much more genteel grip than its alternatives (most of which involve teeth). Honey crunch, when initially clasped in this tender and yet assertive lock, can then be expected to produce much delight when crunched - as the hollow space at this point (if handled correctly and with the precision of a true honey crunch muncher) will have filled with milk.
Then I went down to city hall to meet up with Sailor at around ten. I forgot how enormously tall he is. Living in Hong Kong, I forget there are people who are six four and deck out in vaguely beatnik oddballs.
We headed on over to brooklyn, to a pokey little restaurant ('Cocoa Bar') which both sells art of up-and-comings by displaying it on the walls (complete with price-tag) and serves the best hot chocolate in town. The little chocolates that come with it are non-detrimental to ones personal guilt, as they leave one in far too happy a state of creamy bliss to give a rats arse. After this came a Barnes & Noble and meandering in and out of some stores that sported more staff than stuff.
At this point I began to get an itch for some comic releif, so Sailor and I headed on over to Forbidden Planet just off of Union Square. You remember being a kid in a candy store? Imagine you sweet tooth trebled and then getting a golden ticket to willy-wonkas daydreamish factory. Then you might just begin to brush upon how much I get a kick out of forbidden planet. Sailor knocked a shelf over by accident, and I bought the next two books in the sandman series for Zoo - although I fully intend to read them first (being a bit cheeky). I already got him skullcandies for christmas, and our half year coincided with the holiday season. He was a real sweetheart for our 6th.
Anywhoodle, after frolicking about in forbidden planet we took the subway to williamsburg and ate thai food and wandered in and out of various pretentious stores, one of which boasted old vinyl records. Again, found one that I was sure Zoo would like, although I don't know if I like christmas 24.99 bucks. And then nothing says merry christmas like sales tax (which moved up since last I was in new york).
After this, I insisted on getting a cheesy tourist photo at strawberry fields, because although I've spent so much time there (I used to prance there as a lass) I haven't any documentation. Neither of us felt like walking anywhere, so Sailor sprung for a bike-carriage thing because I refused point blank to go in a horse carriage - having done enough tourist crap for a day. Went to an italian restaurant somewhere near madison.
Then to urban outfitters, for the after christmas sales and flocks of hipsters. I watched 500 days of summer yesterday - and that whole movie looks like its filmed in an urban outfitters.
Then to a coffee joint in soho - and flea market and so on - until I wound up back on canal street.
I'm sure none of that interested you in the slightest.
Love,
Jhonnie Cat
