I haven't been home in days. Hours. 3 moons. 2 breakfasts at Alice's Tea Cup. One trip to the MoMA. Two rides on the Southern State, Cross Island, LIE, Van Damn, 59h St Bridge, 1st ave, 2nd ave. One night at Comic Strip Live. 4 Heinekens at Doc Watsons. Countless shots of Patron and Makers. A pitcher of Blue Moon and domination of the juke box at Swig. One Joyce book. One letter in my pocket. One fantastic church on 88th. 3 dresses. Black, white, red. Dinner at Big Daddy's, Dorians, and Rosa Mexicano. 2 hangovers. A gazillion memories.
All while writing our fiction.
And planning out the future.
With Carlos Tamale, the Weimaraner.