remember when you used to play miniature golf and it was fun?
huh?
i do.
i remember.

i also remember the day i was told that kurt cobain was dead.
and lady diana.
and when the space shuttle blew up - the first time.
second time, wasn't as, um, fucked up.

oh shit. remember when you were in new york? remember when you were in miami?
remember all that?
better recognize.

bitch betta have my money.

the perusal through the wtc site was cool, preceded by a walk across manhattan all the way to the water.
the interaction with the random pee-ers was funny, especially that girl "hello sir! happy sunday!" while she's getting ready to squat.
then in tribeca, that random garbage dude who was pissing on the side of the road and then apologized to me "sorry." i just replied "i don't care."

and i didn't. last time i was in NYC, it smelled like piss. no longer.

the random bar i wandered into sunday night was supposedly called 7B, the hipster bar, and i did not know that. they had a cool jukebox, i met three cool peeps, including the bartender (who was in some band called sock monkey or some shit), another from the new born naturales or some shit (he was referred to as 'mr. new york') and the chick, desdemonna or something like that, who had played in a band at the "st. andrew's academy" in detroit, even though i corrected her once. it was funny.

me throwing the grape juice was fun...all drunk and shit.
obviously the gig at cbgb gallery was the shit. yes yes y'all.
too much drinkin, yep yep.

the guggenheim was extra extra cool, more cool than you.

wandering the new york landscape on a sunday evening.