Dogged Days

I am so amped on caffeine that my urine smells like Breakfast Blend. So I was MIA for a few days last week as I had/needed to take an island vacation (Manahatta claro que si) to a detox center. My diet consisted of fruit punch, Librium and whatever people's court show was blaring from the common area. I was sedated for the first two days to the point of not being able to read a single page of the amazing novel Life A User's Manual before passing out for who knows how many hours at a time. There were the requisite Nurse Ratcheds (a spot-on version then an urban remake model) doling the meds and watching you swallow and they were adamant about "checking vitals" at the oddest hours. Like, of course my heart rate is too low, it's 12:30 AM and I've been sleeping for three hours? Anyway, it was a good experience and I didn't lose my job and I was able to see first hand how fucked up the rehabilitation system is, at least in New York. I mean, it's not that shocking to see drugs and french toast (the food was pretty good actually) being thrown at a problem that obviously doesn't just run skin deep but it was still unsettling. Also, they don't let you smoke! I had to hide in the bathroom with a bunch of my meth-a-donic buddies to sneak a smiggy drag.
Well, pfew, that chapter is closed!
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Jenny and I were doing our Sunday 5th avenue window shopping when we saw this ad. Is she coming or going or...? Makes my tailbone dizzy:
A few blocks down from us, the coolest building alive:
Often times imagining something can be at least half as good as the real thing for me. Like when we were going to have Josh shit in the litter box just to see the confused look on Jamie's face when she went to clean it. Here Jennipa and I prepare for our annual road-trip to New Mexico for the Pottery Association of America's Ceram-a-thon (or, we love this car, look like zany art teacher lesbian aunts and later will watch "He's Just Not That Into You", hollerin' at the screen like we owned the place.)
We met a real (retired) P.I. at a cafe who talked our ears off. Old men: they will compliment and adore and love the shit out of you. Amidst their long-winded tales they actually listen to yours as well! I want to give all the dudes I've ever dug on "old man" pills, like reverse Viagra that only affects them mentally? That doesn't make sense but yeah, I'm not into dinosaur ween but I'll take an ancient brain in a Dorian Gray body any day of the week:
My favorite bartender/waiter ever. Sadly, I've had to enact a self-imposed exile from Les Enfants until further notice.
Now beginning research for a documentary on surveillance/dataveillance, gearing up for France at the end of the month, pushing all welling sadness down and out (mad, terrible withdrawals from a lovely drug disguised as a person; cutting off my fingers at the knuckles to avoid texting) through yoga breathing and daily sessions with my UPS guru. Basically I'm cleaning up shop all around. You can't give what you don't have right? (Ah, therapy and Luna bars - you can kill me now).
Oh, we have a freezer jam-packed with ancient bagels. These bagels register like 9 on the Mohs Scale. What should we do with 30-40 rock-hard Jewish donuts? Thinking stop-animation film at Coney Island? The bagels could be like turtles or lemmings or....