this is day 2. i already put a post and fucked it off perusing other crap before publishing it. fucking hell. i had my coffee. large with a shot, 4 sugars and milk. got it from the hippe coffe spot up the street, the one thats practically a nursery during the afternoon and a laptop convention in the evening [free wireless]. got my cafe card stamped. 6 more and i get a free jumpstart. the fairest of children gave me a ring, head fully surrendered to this monster filtered dico house remake of an old michael jackson tune. i HAD to hear it. it would be affirming. like a sudden solution washing over me. it would make me shake it and shake it and when it was done i would collapse back and say whoa and then please oh please play it once again. i still aint heard it. doubt i ever will. but if i do hear this song. if i ever do. my brain better burst in celebration and the jovial bits of blood that stain the walls containing this great explosion will stiffin and crust and stay cemented in memorandum of this one magnificent event of a bootleg. the fair one and his delicate booty whip of a wife were off to see a new movie by some clever young auteur that is making a serious attempt to elevate cinema. they invited me but the theater was way on lincoln road. thats about 1500 miles from park slope, under a clear blue azure where the palm trees lean back from the great atlantic swash. where the scent of designer perfume hangs above the avenue, hiding the stink of immigrant labor and the neon signs burning VACANCY onto the street. the cars only seat 3 and they all got drop tops. the girls get curves early. they round out into women and twist the world into their young universe before gravity pulls it all away. for an easy 300 you can sweat heavy with them. but ill get to that later. so they are off to a movie and i cant go, i wish i could but i cant. if i did and the movie didnt prove to be the masterwork promised, then that easy hour would be too tempting. shit, if imma see a crappy movie, i better at least get a happy ending.