magicbeans. nothing if not awkward.

Jenny, leaving for work early in the morning, said, 'Sorry about the freshman dorm room bed.' (A twin bed in a narrow room, basically just the hallway, of a railroad apartment.)

'Keeps you young,' I said. 'No one here's 31. We're 19.'

What seemed like moments later, but must have been an hour or two, Vanessa yelled from the next room, 'Bean! You want to go out and get a bagel?' Earlier I had been dreaming about eating bagels in the kitchen, though there was a very large toaster oven in the spot that the refrigerator actually occupies.

'Sounds good to me.'

'Garth! You want to go out and get a bagel?' At similar volume, although Garth's ears were likely less than a foot away from her mouth.

We went and got bagels and coffee. Then to an art bookstore. (Did you know there's an actual hipster mall in Williamsburg? I didn't.) And it was a beautiful bright, sunny last day of 2006, and we walked up to Emily's studio in Greenpoint, then back down to the subway and into Manhattan for noodles.

After which I headed home for a shower and a change of clothes and then back off to Park Slope, to Julia and Matt's pre-party dinner party. Although given the nature of New Year's Weekend, I was losing the impulse to hit up more parties than last New Year's. And did not seem alone in that, and at least half of the dinner guests ended up just hanging out until midnight, with a jaunt up to the chilly roof and the first spittings of rain to watch some fireworks being set off in Prospect Park and somewhere towards lower Manhattan.

And post-midnight, in the rain, to Williamsburg to meet up with Emily and Jenny and a group of their friends, and Christian who had a lead on a party in Greenpoint, but wasn't sure of the details. And when he called to say that he had run into a group of kids on acid, but it seemed like they knew where they were going, the consensus seemed to be to simply stop at the Royal Oak, a block back down the street, and run out the rest of the night there, where the crowd seemed, for the most part, to be younger and drunker than I was, and the DJ was spinning Motown hits, likely in honour of James Brown, but not exactly my thing.

South back to North 7th, few minutes after 4:00AM, Jenny and I, looking for one more drink (or so), stepped into the bar where Chris and Liza and I finished up last New Year's Eve (a few minutes before 4:00AM), and while they were still hopping, to a degree, we were told they were closing up and sent on our way.

'We could buy beer at the 24 hour market across the street from my house and drink, quietly, in my kitchen,' Jenny offered.

'Or it's a long train ride up to my house, but the bodega on the corner is open 24 hours too.'