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No, I'm not a very good dancer. That didn't stop me though. After a great night at AKA we staggered down Orchard St. to someone's loft where Nicholas - I mean, Big Jimmy Fingers - was spinning from 2:00 until ?. The whole place was covered in CDs. I mean the walls, the ceiling, the whole place. Covered in CDs. Nice.
And like I said, I'm not a good dancer. It takes a lot to get me out there. But it's fun when it happens. Full on ecstatic arm waving dancing. It's theraputic. Somehow we ended up with Bill's bottle of Hungarian Tokaji, which probably isn't the best thing to be swigging to the super heated disco beat, but that's what happened. Eventually (where eventually equals this morning) you pay for such transgressions. I was having such a good time I can honestly say I was nonplussed by the small asian girl in the front who would not stay inside her dress. Yeah, yeah. That's just what happens when it gets late. I completely forgot myself, which I guess comes to about the same thing as finding yourself. Your real self. Or one of them at least.
After that it gets a little fuzzy. Of course we wound up at Barramundi. That's where MB and I met, and in the end, that's familly. I think we were doing tequila shots with Erica, but I'll have to check with Tony to be sure. Thinking of a master plan, this ain't nothing but sweat inside my hand. Some day I'll write more about that place. It's special.
This morning seems like the best day ever. Crystal clear skys. Warm. I walked up to Russ & Daughters to buy bagels and loxs with my jacket open just basking in the bright winter sun. I've got a good feeling about this 2002 deal.
From metafilter comes my (probably) last post of the year.
Imagine that the history of the universe is compressed into one year—with the big bang occurring in the first seconds of New Year’s Day, and all our known history occurring in the final seconds before midnight on December 31. Using this scale of time, each month would equal a little over a billion years. Here’s a closer look at when important events would occur when we imagine the universe in one year.The rest of the months are condensed on the linked page, but here's the expanded December calendar for our thought experiment year:
I love that the final 10 second New Year's countdown brings us from the building of the pyramids all the way to the present. At this pace we should have the galaxy populated by the end of New Year's Day. Let's get to work.
Apparently I'm the only person in the world who likes this holiday. Fine. So be it. I know you'll be celebrating anyway, so aren't your protestations a bit hollow? "I just hate staying up late into the night with friends drinking champagne." Huh?
My friends this is it. This is the great major holiday. Unencumbered by religious significance or family duty. The one where alcohol, rightly, takes precedent over the large dead animal featured on the lesser holiday tables, over trinkets of commerce exchanged to and fro. For truely, who needs such foodstuff? Who needs material gifts? I tell you, good friends and fine bubbles are all that are required for life. For the good life. Drink deep. Kiss long. Float up into the heavens. This is what ever happens, yet our earthly bodies do not always get to partake. Don't scorn your chance. That decision might speak of regret.
But what do I know? As Frank says, I'm just a high class wino, and of course the first part is debatable. Or just wrong. Still, we'll be drinking the good stuff. The new restaurant isn't quite ready yet, so we'll be at AKA from 8:30 on. Stop by if you're on the gLower East Side. Everybody is welcome. Leave the scowl at home.