Wednesday, May 20, 2009

I'm Sorry Ms. Jackson, I Am For Real.

Latino caribo, mondo bongo
The flower looks good in your hair.
Latino caribo, mondo bongo
Nobody said it was fair...
A little toasty from a frosty mug of Summer Ale, and about fifteen games of pool under my tummy belt, I am listening to Joe Strummer from the comfort of my very own futon. The violins and slow drum beat leaves me feeling sexy and vulgar. I had an incredibly sexy, vulgar dream last that was less pornographic, more flashing neon lights with people dripping and draping all over one another. People tired of dancing in a dreamy eternity, never to put their legs to rest; forever to push the hair out of their lover's mouth. I took Doug, faceless, to the back of the room where we were meant to make love through the use of doorways and staring at one another a lot. And so we stared.
Today I wandered the hard streets of the West Village, and threw down some resumes at coffee and book shops. Then I rolled down to SoHo and dropped resumes like I was in the Middle East (yes, that was in fact a Black Eyed Peas reference. Eat it.), and even picked up an application at EMS.
This afternoon I sat at the pier and read as the sun pulled at its multi-colored shade as it decended. Brandon and I played pool at Fat Cat, bickering over what rules should be used. Jay and Quan met us soon thereafter. After some more games of me still being incredibly rusty, we took to the subways, waved bye to Brandon, then ventured on into Chinatown, where we went to our favorite billard & bar, Tropical. Many, many games and a beer and loads of close instructions from Jay later, and I was finally getting good at it again. My right arm hurts, and thats how I know I did a good game of pool. Means I was concentrating.
I really, really love pool. There are not many things I can outrightly say I am passionate about entertainment wise without some sort of embarrasment. Pool is not one of them. When I'm playing well, I don't think about anything else: just slicing that ball, or hitting it just gently enough.
Tomorrow, Colin comes up from Connecticut. I am very, very excited about this, as I have not seen him since...I don't even remember anymore. Ana, him and I will hopefully get together as well, or, at least, at Coney Island on Friday before Doug & I leave for the Adirondacks.
Tired now, must bid the interwebs adiu.
Au revoir.
Guten Nache.
Buenos Noches, mi amo Nuevo York.

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