magicbeans. nothing if not awkward.

Last night Chris said that he thought Cora would probably be pretty reliably into getting brunch on Saturdays, but that she might not be awake as early as we sometimes go to eat. As he was getting into a cab at the end of the evening I told him to call and wake her up this morning, and then call me a reasonable hour. 'It will be very reasonable,' he said. And it occurred to me that we probably had different ideas of what that might mean.

And so I didn't hear anything from him this morning. A little after noon I left for the Museum of Natural History, where the bank was sponsoring an outdoor dinosaur exhibit for kids, that I had worked on some of the graphics for. They couldn't have asked for a nicer day.

I did eventually get Chris on the phone, but he didn't think he was going to make it out of Brooklyn any time soon, so I ended up getting brunch by myself.

Then went into work for a while. Walked around the city for a bit. Got dinner by myself as well. And then got a call from Marie, who I bought a slightly belated birthday drink for. Before heading out to Queens, where I finally met up with Chris who was going to an end of summer dance party at Flux Factory, an artists' space in Long Island City.

An open letter to the Neighborhoodies girl who handed me a flyer at the Ted Leo show:

I know that you had a backpack of flyers, and were probably handing them out to every artsy/indie-looking kid who might come to the Neighborhoodies dance party, or might buy a Neighborhoodies sweatshirt, or might be interested in the sorts of music that is being sold at the new Neighborhoodies music store. But I'd like to think that you chose me to hand a flyer to because you thought I looked like an interesting person, someone that it might be worth having a conversation with, someone that it might be worth getting to know. And based on that wishful thinking, in spite of the fact that I never heard anything back from Neighborhoodies when I applied for a job there right after I moved to New York, I was thinking about coming to the dance party. But my friends wanted instead to go to the dance party at Flux Factory in Queens, which as it happened never really reached critical mass, and wasn't all that great a time. Plus, it was a longer trip home to Inwood than it would have been from the East Village.

Waiting on the platform at 42nd Street, to transfer from the E from Queens, my hopes were raised and dashed by two uptown D trains, an uptown E, and a garbage train, that had passed us in Long Island City going into Manhattan, then passed me at 42nd, and then passed me again at 168th, where I had to switch to an uptown shuttle going the rest of the way to 207th.