Its 2:45am on a Friday in New York City and I am completely sober. My friend and I just drove around Manhattan for a little bit, skipping some party at some bar that neither of us were very excited about. We ended up mostly just sitting in traffic beneath the illuminated panic of Times Square, but we also wove around the drunken West Village and took a solemn moment at The Dakota.
Yesterday we found Kurt Vonnegut’s house through some fine detective work that I can take no credit for.
I got dropped off in Union Square and as I was waiting for the L train, I ran into to a girl whose room I had subletted in January. Strange how that stuff happens all the fucking time! Was nice to have some company beneath the East River.
All of a sudden, every memory I have of this place is vivid.
Friday, May 4, 2007
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