where do you begin to bite this fruit of a city.how do you approach it, how do you pounce? and hence the beginnings started well in the beginning when the world was created and Mcdonalds popped up on every corner.
so the history museum gives one the opportunity to pay whatever you wish, so its normally a hefty 20 dollars, but i had set my mind on 5 bucks.anyhow im in the cheapo queue and some poncy outta stater asks me how much im gonna give, so i tell him a 'fiver'.so he's llke 'whats a faiyver?'.its funny cos his wife got it. anyhow this f*ckin ponce tells me that 'know one in these parts knows what a faiyver is'.anyhow i kept my mouth shut thinking this oke was a total baseball head.anyhoo i decided, f*ck him im paying 3 dollars, and with that i rolled in.
as i tried to read everything in this museum, trying to be interested i kept being followed by this smell, this scent of grandmas old flat in killarney, you know, that musty old smell that grannies have. anyways i smelled my pits and smelling like a fresh can of AXE deo, i realised that it was simply the teradactyl next to me. did i really need to go to this museum?
after 5 hours scouring mummies and old mexicans, penguins and dinosaurs ,ancient asians and prehistoric africans, rubbing rocks from space and rocks from the rockies it was time to head out side and take a sweet stroll through central park. there i cracked open the all too cool can of dr pepper and unbagged a stash of pretzels. im an all american.this park is absolutely phenomenal, its vast, its green, its pleasant, it has runners and cyclists and walkers and talkers. its got frisbees and soccer, lollies and pretzels.
having greened my pants on the emerald lawns it was time for me to meet up with bochy, the blessed one. together we followed this dude to a bar in amsterdam avenue that sells beer for 3 dollars-the cows had come home and pigs could fly. but after 15 pints i could still remember high school calculus.(not to be mistaken with high school musical)
having asked for local knowledge on a fine slice of pizza pie, this college kid leads us to Freddies, a little dive entered below street level run by these like porta ricans. a real sweaty place only cooled when the coke refrigerator was opened. that lil triangulated wedge of ecstacy was the sweatiest tastiest slice of life i've had in a long time. i knew this was the place cos here on the wall i shared a moment, another(after wall street) moment with michael douglas and the great Sopranos.ssssiiiick.seems like michael douglas spreads himself thin.
after catching a cab, a frikkin yellow cab, typically driven by some guy from new delhi we rolled into Brandys across town on the east side (got the lingo down hey).its a wee piano bar, open mic night it was and gees like it was awesome.the waitress after cheesily offering us drinks, grips the mic like a lolly pop, her flaming red hair glistening in the bar light, her green top glad wrapping her torso, her skinny jeans, like a scuba suit, and her black heels polished to a mirror conducts the piansist and begins to belt it. her lungs powerful enough to have turned the winds. her vocals squeezed tears outta my eyes, it was mesmerising. that eve not a single singer couldnt sing, pure freshly squeezed talent dripped from this bar. thats new york
sweet melons what a night, it ended in miss waitress singing a lady gaga tribute, i want your 'vertical stick'.as i caught the polished chrome train back home with bochy, i knew i was a seed in the great apple.
from a scurvyless lad
the russian bear hunter
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