Expanding Horizons

First thought: I need to learn French. There are a lot of hot women in the city speaking French—especially in the West Village, near Washington Square Park. (And, oh, yeah, I guess it would be useful/fun to learn for other reasons, too.)

Went for a loooong walk through Tribeca today. Early on, I stopped by a place called Bubby's for one of the most fantastic breakfasts I've had in a long time. I was also tickled to see a dish with Smithfield ham topping their brunch menu; I didn't order it, though.

Just a few moments ago, I checked my email, and saw a curious ad at the top for something called "cougar" bars. Guess it's a sign I'm over the internet pr0n phase of my adolescence that I innocently clicked on the link out of genuine curiosity and got more enlightenment than I'd bargained for.

My mother used to drive a '69 Cougar when I was very small. Don't know how I feel about this new association.

So why was I lurking around Tribeca all morning and most of the afternoon, and receiving targeted ads for specialty bars in my email? Believe it or not, it's related to a small, fun project I'm putting together at work. Seriously. I'll explain more later.

Keeping the Sidewalks Safe

Walking down Bleeker Street towards 6th Avenue with my new corporate roommate—his first time outside of Australia—a siren squawked briefly from behind. After I made a quick step to the left, an NYPD cruiser squeezed past the stopped traffic, two wheels on the sidewalk rolling right through where I had been.

God, how I love this city!

Last night I slept better than I have all week. All week, I'd stay up late, but would still wake up after four or five hours, too tired to get up, but unable to return to sleep. Amazing what ills an evening with good friends can cure.

This morning I took a stroll through the West Village, and decided to keep going all the way down Hudson through Tribeca, previously unexplored terrain. Hooked a left when it intersected West Broadway, and wandered back up through Soho.

Before stopping at the Borgia Cafe at Spring and West Broadway for brunch and a latte, I passed by an art gallery. In the window sat a photo of Jimi straining to bend a note, an image I must've seen a thousand times before. This time, however, after the great time out with friends last night, and walking all around the city throughout the brisk-yet-gorgeous morning, seeing Jimi pouring himself into that single, silent, distant note jolted me into a moment of clarity. There's one reason above all I love this city so much, why it accepts me, why it inspires me, why it makes me feel like a better human being, why nowhere else feels as right: This is home.