Pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name

Nemesis


?? Which Of The Greek Gods Are You ??
brought to you by Quizilla
courtesy of Chuckwacka

I'm kind of surprised, I was thinking probably more Eris ( discord-the one responsible for the Trojan War) or perhaps Minerva (I know I'm not nearly virginal enough), who was involved in wars, but wasn't an insane about the bloodshad as Mars.

However, in terms of story, I probably identify with Medusa who just got a cosmic screwing. Raped by a god( Poseidon), while she held the feet of the statue of Athena, begging for the goddess to intervene and save her, she was then punished by being transformed into a monster ( by Athena the very goddess she had pedged her virginity to) until she was slain. Her head was then affixed to the sheild of Athena.

I do love being a drama queen.
Where I've been hiding

Well I haven't been on for a bit. I've been hangin' out in my little bunni hole.

Friday I hung out with Mom. My fridge is now all stocked with goodies thanks to Mom. We did girly things like buy make up and get manicures. Always a good thing.

Last night was disappointing. Instead of catching up, the Marquis and I went the place of Happy Married Couple, who are mutual friends. We hung out there, but really there was no catching up. At the end, Marquis was all about getting into my pants, which I was not having.

On the other hand, I turned down 4 other offers-Bishop, Dixie Boy, John Yule, and a new comer, let's call him, Greyhound.

Still, they aren't the kinds of offers I really want. I mean, they fill in the spare moments while I'm waiting, but that's not what I am looking for.

The Marquis has noticed a change "Something happened to you. You're worse." He is the first person to say that. On the other hand, considering that he felt "rejected" the comment might have been more to hurt than to a truthful statement.

I told him the problem was the same as before, but he insisted something had changed. So I said it outright "Well, a year ago I could at least pretend to be in love or pretend that it was possible. I could at least find some guy and pretend well if I could have him I could be happy. Now I can't even pretend. I can't even pretend to have hope of loving someone."

To this, he had no response.

Tonight looks to be dedicted to work-grading and reading and such-but it's all good as tomorrow I have to get up to trouble with Smitten.
The Law of Eventual Returns

I have come to believe that every man I have given my phone number to will eventually call back. It's simply a matter of waiting a few years. I mean I can understand a guy who waits a week, or even two, but a year?

Here are some recent examples that boggle the mind:

Darren-I met him at a part-we go on one awful date-exactly a year later ( this May) I get a message on my voice mail

"Hi Bunni, I don't know if you remember me but we went on a date around this time last year. We walked through the park. Anyway, it's the same time of year and it made me think of you. Uh here's my number...."

The Beast-after not hearing from him for 8 months he calls me at 2 am while I am in a hotel room in Florida

Hennessey-we met on New Year's Eve-in august I get the following phone message "Hi Bunni. It's Hennessey. We met on New Year's Eve. Anyway I am back in town and wondering what you are up to this weekend. I'll probably call back later." He didn't call back nor did he leave a number.

Marquis-After a rather rude phone call a year ago, he calls up. He, at least, has the presence of mind to realize I might not be so happy to hear from him.

Bishop-I leave a message. Six weeks go by before he calls back and leaves me a message. I call back the same day. Another three weeks go by. When he calls again he claims he calls me more than I call him. I simply laugh.

Vampire Hunter D-After I leave two messages on his answering machine, he doesn't call me back for three years. One night before christmas he actually tracks me down to my new number to call me. ( Of course now he isn't returning calls again, so I have to assume that I will be waiting for another three or so years to hear from him.)

I'm sure more men have tried to call me back, but I have only been living here for three years so they have been calling old numbers.


Please file under: reasons to be utterly disgusted with the state of higher education in the US

Aethele, in a recent post, linked to this article in the New York Times about how the University of Houston has just built a 53 million dollar wellness center complete with hot tubs. According to the director of campus recreation "Everyone says it looks like a resort."

Because I think we all agree that's what college is about.

Here are some high lights from the article:

Students now get massages, pedicures and manicures at the University of Wisconsin in Oshkosh, while Washington State University boasts of having the largest Jacuzzi on the West Coast. It holds 53 people.


Play one of 52 golf courses from around the world on the room-sized golf simulators at Indiana University of Pennsylvania

On the drawing board at the University of Southern Mississippi are plans for a full-fledged water park, complete with water slides, a meandering river and something called a wet deck — a flat, moving sheet of water so that students can lie back and stay cool while sunbathing.

"An arms race," said Clare Cotton, president of the Association of Independent Colleges and Universities in Massachusetts. "It's exactly the psychology of an arms race. From the outside it seems totally crazy, but from the inside it feels necessary and compelling."

In the meanwhile adjuncts, who carry the majority of the course load, barely make anything. The universities do not make these facilities available to adjuncts, only full time faculty. For example, NYU charges its adjuncts if they wish to use the sports center. It would be simple enough for NYU to throw in that little amenity to make up for perhaps the disgraceful pay and utter lack of benefits, but they don't.

But then, that would make sense.

Furthermore, students tend to see these facilities and promotional events as "free." NYU holds an autumnal festival and a spring strawberry festival. Each year the events are more lavish. They started simply as little stalls of popcorn and soda. Students had to go to certain booths about alcohol poisoning or safe sex to get tokens in order to receive the popcorn or whatever. To some extent it made sense, the university was trying to get information to the students in a "fun" way.

Now such festivals boast live performers, balloon animals, a variety of foods and drinks, free give aways including hats and t-shirts. Students load up on these treats thinking of them as "free" and even more so thinking that considering the tuition they pay that NYU owes them events such as these.

What they fail to recognize is that these events just make the university raise the tuition even more. Students indulging in these festivals leads the universities believe that the students are willing to "pay" for these events through tuition ( the very claim on expert makes in the Times article).

Unfortunately, they don't have the same gimme attitude towards their profs.

For example, although the university requires me to have an hour in my office for every hour I teach my students rarely come. Although I promise to help them with papers and answer questions, students rarely bother to ask these questions. I end up sitting in an empty office for hours.

In the few cases students do bother me, it is usually with something that they could have learned simply by opening up their textbooks and doing the assigned reading or looking at the syllabus (for example when I started talking about the midterm-students asked me when it was-I have been reviewing these dates since the first day of classes).

This is what becomes of treating students like consumers.
Harumph

You know I was going to write a long involved post about Michael Moore's idea of Oprah for Pres. and how it went over with my class this morning ( thanks Billy) and then I thought Kelvin had some good thoughts on the latest episode of Angel. ( Is it possible for ANYONE in the Buffy/Angel group to die and stay dead? Why not bring back some of the old bad guys. I miss the Mayor - sorry but he was a way better bad guy than Glory-let's bring HIM back.)

So now that I have revealed the valley girl within, let me talk about what I AM going to actually blog about and that is my continued hatred for my job.

Because it really has come to that.

I was told today by administration that I can't kick a kid out of my class just for sleeping because, according to them, sleeping isn't disruptive. I asked for clarification. "You're telling me that if a kid in a 12 person class comes in and puts his head down on the desk and sleeps through the whole thing and he does this every class and then gets up and IS OPEN ABOUT WHY HE IS SLEEPING IN MY CLASS ie 'Oh I don't sleep at night because of sports so I HAVE to sleep in class' isn't disruptive?"

Apparently, it isn't.

Oh but here is their suggestion, "What you can do is make that student write a 2-3 page report summarizing the class. If they fail to do the assignment, you can mark them absent."

"So wait I can mark them absent, but not throw them out?"

"Yes."

Is it me, or does that defy logic?

Not to mention that I have to do more reading, which is exactly what I want to do for a student who isn't paying attention anyway.

I'm so disgusted with the two o'clock. Another teacher has suggested that I have them write letters to me about what they want from the class, and what they would like to see changed.

Another teacher told me just to be an unmitigating bitch. Go in and say "Listen, you don't want to talk, well then fine sit here and write" and just have them write every class all class for a week until their little phelanges bleed.

I am loathe to go the letter route. To me it's giving them a lot of power, and it's also opening myself up for a world of personal insult. I mean these kids are already insulting in class, what kind of responses am I going to get in print?

On the other hand, I really hate to go the writing the whole class way.

Jesus Christ, these are COLLEGE STUDENTS. I feel like I am teaching high school.

I'm so disgusted with them.

Damn it.
The British and Michael Moore

I've known about Moore's work since Roger and Me. I also used to watch TV Nation on occassion. ( I was, honestly, a more dedicated fan of the Power Puff Girls, but that's another post.) After Bowling for Columbine, I though more people might know of him, but it wasn't until his stunt at the Academy Awards that many Americans ( including my students) knew he existed. Even then he was simply "that guy who talked about the war on that awards show." They didn't know or bother to find out why he had received the award, what he did, or even his name. Thirty seconds later he was back in obscurity.

I've tried to get my students interested in other "oddball" documentarists, most notably Nick Broomfield and Errol Morris. They watch for about fifty seconds and fall asleep. They could care less and about Kurt Cobain and Courtney Love, they could give a damn about a guy helps fix design flaws in electric chairs and lethal injection machines and wrote a report denying the Holocaust. To them this is the height of boring.

Now I notice two British bloggers have recently posted about Michael Moore. Billy and Kelvin have both posted about him, for seemingly different reasons. Both cast a skeptical eye upon him, which is good. But it's interesting that so few Americans seem to even notice him, even after he has pulled off such incendiary tactics. It makes me realize how utterly apathetic the public is.



A Visual Marriage

I was sitting listening to hot Argentine guitarists play and the german philosophy expert/lawyer, let's call him Kant, sits down next to me.

He didn't talk to me. He pulled his paper out and opened it. He held it up, working on the crossword muttering to himself about five letter names of southern universities and such.

We sat there four inches apart. He was leaning towards me, but not talking, or looking, or touching.

I was watching the hot argentine,. At the same time, I was filled with loathing for this pompous guy. I just wanted him to somewhere else. Even a foot away. Just not so close that I could hear his muttering, that I could feel it when he crossed his legs.

And then I realized, that to other people, sitting so close, perfectly silent, we probably looked married.
Because everything goes better with hot argentine guitarists

Ah yes, so it is wednesday, time for my bi weekly treatment of hot argentine guitarists. Now last week they depressed the hell out of me. Today I was already on the verge of death, so I figured, well, could it hurt?

and the answer is.................

Nope. I actually spoke to them! I know, I know, the shock, the horror, the unspeakableness of it all.

Actually, I have come to love this little coffee place. I am exhausted and should have gone to bed, but I heard them playing outside. I haven't missed them playing once yet.

And apparently they HAVE noticed.

I went inside and one of them, not the one I want desperately, started talking to me. I told him I loved it when they played the Piazzola. I did not tell them that I often dream of playing Piazzola, or that when I get that dreamy look in my eye it's because I'm remembering the piazzola. No. That would be bad. He said "You know Piazzola?"

Oh, never have I been so happy to own the film the Tango Lesson in my life!

So they went out and played some more. And for their last song of the evening, for me, they played a tango.

As I was leaving, they said, and I believe there was actual interest in their voices "So we'll see you on Sunday, right?"

Do I look like the woman to let two talented hot men down?

Do I?

Not only will I be there, but I might bring Smitten along for the ride. Ain't that a scary concept? Two highly articulate girls oogling two argentine men who know how handle their instruments.

The mathematical possibilities are mind boggling.
When Emily Dickenson Looks Good

Just came from my two o clock class and I am ready to quit. Not just the job, but this life. Take my cat and a handful of Meow Mix and just head for Vermont or Maine or someplace very far from these unappreciative sullen silent children. You know, I take all this time to try and come up with something amusing-I dig through monty python and bill hicks and old craftmatic adjustable bed commercials to illustrate logical fallacies and what do I get? Nothing. I try and talk about ah-nold, which they seem to want to talk about, but have a discussion and nothing. Nothing nothing nothing.

Nothing.

It's killing me. I think I need to start being a serious bitch. I don't want to be but when students come in and sleep in front of me, I mean, obviously sleeping, well, it is time ladies and gentleman, to break out my old stack heeled knee high lace up boots. I mean, I hate doing this, but really, they are ruining my life. I ready to bag the phd plan because I don't know if I want to be a teacher...at all.

I don't know if I want to be an academic. The basic problem is this, what the hell else would I do? I'm not really trained to do anything except work in publishing and I have a feeling I would be even less happy there ( partially because all of my fellow grads from grad school went into publishing-I mean like book and magazine publishing-and hate it. Whenever I call them, they are very clear in their anti publishing argument.) So what else? What other career could I have? Go back to go into psychology? Another low paying field or try to go into psychiatry? Actually go through med school? I don't think so. I don't think I could pull it off.

So basically, what is the solution? Or is there one? And if I decide to stay in academia should I focus on publishing or just focus on the school part? Do I leave NYC and my hot argentine guitarists and drunken rooftop conversation and astronomical rent or do I stay here?

And then I realized the joke was on me

So I just came from my weekly web tutorial with the Mistake and the following conversation took place. Please remember that this woman is a colleague. Also remember she is trying to get young students to use english properly.

Bunni: So you'll never guess what a student just asked me.

Mistake: What?

Bunni: This student comes in and asks if the word eunuch-ize is correct.

Mistake: Eunuch-ize?

Bunni: Yeah like as in eunuch-ize a eunuch.

Mistake: What's a eunuch?

Bunni: A castrated man. You know, he would guard the harems in like Arabian Nights and other tales.

Mistake: Spell it for me.

Bunni: E-U-N-U-C-H

Mistake looks it up in dictionary.

Mistake: Says here it's a noun. So no.

Bunni has abandoned all hope that the Mistake will even begin to see the humor in this situation. Simply shakes her head and abandons the joke.

Mistake: Besides, eunuch-ize a eunuch is repetitive.

Bunni: Yes, yes it is.

Mistake: I'm so lucky. All my students, all A's. I've got an A bunch.
Vanilla Lovers for Chocolate

My friend Stephen always used to refer Jews for Jesus as vanilla lovers for chocolate, but low and behold there may be another group that needs the title. I am referring to Atheists for Jesus.

This link is courtesy of the rather thorough and amazing argument posted on metafilter in regards to an anti Matthew Shephard monument in a state park. Phelps, the guy who proposes such a monument, also protested a memorial for Mr. Rogers.

Even more evidence that humanity is far worse than I could have ever conceived.
The Mistress and the Marquis

Last night the Marquis called me after a year long vanishing act. After much effusive pleasantries were exchanged at discovering that he is indeed alive and well, the following conversation took place.

Marquis: How do you feel about married men?

Bunni: You're the third one in two weeks. I'm over my quota.

Marquis: You know, if I was sure that you were still living in the same place, many nights I would have showed up there.

Bunni: Yep, you and the rest of the upper East Side.

Marquis: But you would have taken care of me.

Bunni: You're not alone.

Marquis: But I'm special.

Bunni: If you say so.

The Marquis insists we should write a book together. he sees us as a kind of modern Valmont and Mertueil ( Dangerous Liasons). However he ignores what ultimately happened to both of those characters.

But when the ship is going down, what else can one do but play?

Cause and Effect

Students in the lab were loudly complaining about NYU and how state schools are better or the same, and they would have had a better time if they had gone to a school where they were getting a free ride.

First, when questioned, the TWO schools they named, one of them near my home town, were not nearly as highly ranked.

I didn't point out the fallacy of the "greener grass." It always more attractive to imagine one's life is better some other way, simply because it is hard to disprove, but more than likely if this student was in a state school, they would wish he or she was at NYU.

Second when pushed on the state schools, I informed them I grew up next to a state school where half of my friends parents were faculty. The resources available here are far superior, as are the facilities available to the staff. They pointed that some state schools were good. When I pushed them on which ones, they couldn't name any with the same ranking. ( I could, but didn't do so.)

If asked if they had applied or gotten into these state schools, they didn't answer.

What it came down to is one student is unhappy with his calculus teacher.

What really got me angry is he is complaining that his teacher doesn't care etc etc. What I didn't say was "Has it occurred to you that your teacher has been standing in front of apathetic and hostile students like you all day and he has just given up trying to get in touch with you? That all he hears is students who wish they were somewhere else and so he wishes he could be home with his equations which don't complain or roll their eyes?"

Honestly, after today. I was totally willing to quit. I am beginning to think that I should. Just walk out. Because the attitude is just disgusting. You don't want to be here. Fine. Go. I'll help you transfer to the school of your choice, but don't just sit here complaining. I'll write you recommendations. You want to stay here and get help. I'll find you tutors. I'll get you links. I correct your papers.

But make a decision, and shut the hell up.

Cripes.
IQOTD

"The man who thinks he knows the mind of a woman knows nothing"-Robert Evans referring to Ally Macgraw in The Boy Stays in the Picture
Today's Sentiment: Ever monday I understand how Kafka felt coughing blood in the midst of bureacracy


My Wierd Weekend-the short short version

friday-after having a long fight with a friend I am abducted by a perhaps no longer married man to a gay birthday party-karoake and drunken roof top conversations ensue

saturday-I recover from hangover just in time to go on a date with a german philosphy expert/trial lawyer

I couldn't tell if he liked me or not....I'm guessing not

Sunday-go to Rohr's for coffee, try to work, fail miserably, go home and wait for hot argentine guitarist, get phone call from someone who I haven't mentioned here before let's call him Dick on Demand-DOD-wondering what I am doing later- I have been giving him the brush off for a while but now he insistent-he needs the love that only bunni can provide-and who am I to deny him his ration of the bad bunni?

So I told him to come over after ten as I figured I would be all hot and bothered by then-so I went listened to guitarist-got my hackles all the ready-came home and took a break from my online office hours so that DOD could ease my shoulder tension

later also during online office hours Dixie Boy gives me a call-apparently there was a boy toy convention somewhere on the east coast this weekend...curious....

and my students think my problem is a lack of sex...if they had any idea the types of things I get up to....half the time even I don't give myself full credit for the things I am capable of...




Because life only makes sense backwards...too bad we have to live it forwards
-from Thirteen Conversations About One Thing

Part of the reason I've become so depressed is because of my job. When you teach rhetoric and logic for living, it's easy to lose your sense of joy, of surprise. You begin to realise how easy it is to simply categorize things, how easy it is to see things coming.

Part of the reason I had such a good time friday night goes back to my happiest moment-that one I've written about in Las Vegas. It was surprise and the wonder of it.

Sitting and watching the hot argentine guitarist ( who am I to hold a grudge?), I realized coming to the conclusion I have-that there is no G-d or fate or destiny that acts lose their meaning. People always so it was meant to be and so forth. But once you remove fate from the equation it just becomes a series of missed opportunities, a series of failures, of almost hads.

But on friday, there was still surprise, there was still fun.

There is still confusion.

Knowing the right thing to do in a certain moment is so hard. Once you eliminate religion, it's even more difficult.

Take the situation with Ton Ami. Was there a "good" conclusion that situation? Was there a way for that to end well? And even if there was, was there any way for me to know that in the moment?

Or take this situation now, where I go and sit and watch Argentine guitarist. Is telling him that I want him the right thing to do? If he wanted me, wouldn't he have done something by now?

Isn't the truth that I would rather live with a long drawn out maybe, rather than a definitive no?

I wish I could get this guy. Perhaps my friend Smitten will help me out.

The Keith Richards friday night achievement award: expanded version

See I've been working on cutting down my posts, as I was concerned that they were too wearing on the attention spans of the public. But the public apparently wants details and who am I to deny them.

So here we go. Let's start at the very beginning.

The married guy with the dog used to live around the corner from me. One night, almost a year ago, we sat out outside and had drinks. I was fairly sure his marriage was going to end soon. Just the way he talked about it. Not very seriously. More like the way you would talk about a poorly directed commercial (like 1800 CALL ATT).

WHen I walked by F's, I needed a drink. I was having a bad week what with the argentine guitarist and a long ridiculous fight with a friend, which I won't even discuss. Bad day. I saw a few people I knew and stopped in.

Married man with the dog spotted me and came over. He was ready to jump in my pants right there. He was all about, my apartment has a fire place ( how 70s of him). This is all of two drinks into the conversation and already he wants to take me away from all of this. So I tell him "You know last week I was hangin' with a married man and I'll tell you what I told him. 'There is no shortage of just sex in my life. NONE. In fact, there is a waiting list. Now you want to wait until 2005 just to get a piece of ass you can, but I want an actual relationship.'"

He looked down for a second. "I don't know why you think all I want to do is fuck you? "

Ummmm, maybe because that's all you're trying to do?

"I just think you're fun. And why do things have to be so complicated. Can't they just be simple?"

Well they are simple, you want to sleep with me and that's not what I want. That's simple.

So when he finally got it through his head that I wasn't going to fuck him, he asked me what I was up to and that's when the birthday party came up.

Now I haven't been hanging with gay men as much as I have in the past. But here is the irony, even though all I do is hang out with straight men I have less of a shot of getting a date than I do with the gay ones.

Now I wasn't really dressed for an evening of fabulousness. I was wearing a sweater and jeans, but you know I was like, they're gay, who gives a fuck. It's sad. When I used to go with gay men, I'd get all bedecked. Now I'm that hag who shows up in a sweater in jeans. Well, at least it was a Betsey Johnson sweater.

So off we went down to the Slide.

Now in the cab ride over, married man with dog tried to re enact a scene from 91/2 weeks. He is all trying to feel me up. I have to admit all this week I wanted to be kissed. That's it just kissed. So I said how much I love kissing, and this guy put his heart and soul and his camel tongue into it.

But it was fun.

We get the Slide and there is Dorian Gray and the Birthday Boy who looks like an aging Captain America and and Mr. Village People with a handlebar mustache ( who used to be married man with the dog's boss). And we are having cosmos and being fabulous. There is this woman, an Australian named Fiona, who comes up. And married man with the dog, let's call him SuperFreak, introduces her. Mr Village People says "Did you ever sleep with SuperFreak?"

Superfreak: Yep, one night, we were about as hammered as we are now, and I banged the shit out of her.

Fiona: That' not quite what happened.

Superfreak: Admit it.

Fiona: I don't want to talk about it.

Bunni: C'mon, tell me the truth. Is he any good?

Fiona: No, no let's just talk about something else.

Superfreak to Bunni: She's just upset because she got emotionally involved, but really, it was great.

Bunni nods, not believing a word.

Fiona's re-action upset me. I wasn't sure if she was embarassed by how superfreak was acting or having to admit to having sex with him among friends, but the intensity and the upset of her reaction seemed more like something serious. I wondered if maybe it was something else. Superfreak had hinted at being into SMBD in the cab. I told him if he was looking to dominate, look elsewhere. My stackheeled, lace up, knee high boots bow to no man.

Not now, not ever, and certainly not in the back of a cab.

But I was wondering if maybe Fiona had a bad experience. Which warned me off of Superfreak.

Superfreak, meanwhile, is standing next to me trying to fondle my bum. He walked away to get us drinks and Mr Village People says to me "You know I've never seen Superfreak affectionate towards a woman in public before. You must be very special. How long have you know him?"

So I explained that I've known him a year but only talked to him a few times. I also added that he has always been very affectionate towards me.

Mr Village People also adds that Superfreak gets serious ass. Like a public toilet that boy is.

Interesting.

So we head off to karoake.

The way to the bar is long and so to help me out the last two block Dorian Gray carries me on h is back. It makes me think of the black out. Sometimes I love being small enough to be picked up and carried by drunken men. I suppose it is the cavewoman in my soul.

Superfreak wants to be all on top of me, but I am about having a good time on my own. Dorian Gray and I sit next to each other, Superfreak is on the other couch. We are singing, the gay men insist that I sing something so I do Eurythmics "Sweet Dreams" which anybody can make sound decent. They all sing with me. We are drinking tequila shots under the table. We are dancing around and substituting lyrics.

It's also at the karoake bar that Superfreak picks up Elvira.

Outside the karoake bar, Superfreak tells me he has decided that we should just be platonic friends.

Um, making a decision implies you have some power. Which you don't, because I'm the one who is just out to have fun, you are the one who wants hot pussy on a paper plate.

So we head to Standard. At every stop we lose people. Now it's two gay men from Cali, Superfreak, Dorian, and me. There is a great band, one of the band members tries to get me to hear him play at an after hours place. Between his accent and my martinis I can't understand where it is so I keep smiling and nodding.

Finally Elvira wants to go. She goes out and then Superfreak goes out. Then Superfreak comes back in, then Elvira comes back in to find Superfreak.

Superfreak whispers to me "I bet you thought you had big boobs."

Straight men are so dumb, as if I care if chicks have bigger boobs. Besides, I got the better body, the better mind, and the better self esteem.

Oh and did I leave out, the better sense of fashion?

So, I'm like "Hey they are bigger." So Superfreak is like "She let's me touch them." I was like "You know, you want quality man you have to put in time and effort. You don't walk into Le Cirq and demand a steak right then. These things take time. You want easy access, you sacrifice quality."

He finally goes with Elvira. Mr. let's just be friends.

Dorian and I go back to his place. We sit on the roof of his building and talk about our childhoods, our families, his siblings.

We go downstairs. We have beers and we snuggle under the blankets.

The next day he has to go teach people. We pull on clothes and jump into a cab. I get off at my place and immediately fall into bed. I recover in time for my date with Mr. German Philosophy.

As I said, sometimes, I really love New York.