Concettina Died and Other Stories of the East Side

Pinch me I'm dreaming, posted April 8, 2009 at 09:15 PM

I had the oddest morning. Tell it like a dream.

Mark Fox and I were sitting in Balthazar for our Thursday morning breakfast, on Wednesday, and the couple at the opposite table were kissing passionately. For an hour. Just like in our puppet play The Kiss. So we went up to Park Avenue and stood in an important modern masterpiece of architecture, holding up a broken mirror to the outside world. Suddenly it got dark and started to snow very hard. And then Richard Serra's editor, Heidi Colsman-Freyberger, walked in, looking to buy a rain hat. We looked up and were now in a big bank building where one of Mark's artworks was hanging over an open stairwell. I climbed the stairs to look at it while Mark made small talk with a bank bigwig and a security guard. Back on the train I held a stranger's hand before kissing Mark goodbye. The stranger's friend was hogging the poll, licking his fingers, then touching the poll with the same fingers, so we got in a fight about how disgusting that was. Up on the street in Tribeca, I passed the Soho landmark, Jerry's Cafe. I found Bon Chon Chicken but didn't go in. Willie Nelson's Bubbles in My Beer came on my iPod so I thought of my old flame Christopher, when suddenly a woman bumped into me and knocked me into a red Vespa just like Christopher's. I was then at my desk in my office and the phone rang and woke me up for good.

Everything I just said happened this morning.

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