Sun, Nov 29: Sleepy, Hollow

– Another blissed-out day of not going to work, not traveling across the country, and not seeing to familial obligations. If only life could stay this sweet.

Sunday morning mirrored its predecessor. Coffee, writing, gym, lunch. I looked at my bank account and realized the hoodie I thought I’d bought at Urban Outfitters, which was rung up by an employee with a weird mutated cell phone scanner thing, which was supposedly getting shipped to my office, never got purchased. So I walked down to Williamsburg and bought one like a normal person. My new look is pretty much complete. I wear black joggers and the black hoodie and one of the five black or white or minimally patterned shirts I own with my white sneakers. I look extremely nondescript. It makes me feel sort of empty, actually. But I think that’s the point. No one person is bigger than the city, or more visually impactful. Like a puppeteer, you blend in with the background so that the thing that’s meant to stand out does.

I walked around some more and found a Christmas gift for my sister in a pop-up mall near the Bedford stop. I won’t describe it here because she sometimes reads my blog. On the way home I hit up Xi’an Famous Foods for sweet and sour dumplings. They always play old-school hip hop in there; this time they had Microphone Fiend by Eric B. and Rakin on. It’s a dope song. I encourage you to listen to it and imagine me eating dumplings.

At night I went out with this girl Courtney, the assistant to the CEO of an internationally famous fashion label. She’s from eastern Tennessee, had lived in New York for three years before leaving to chase a boy to Nashville, is back as of August. We met off Union Square on Irving Place, a little street where everything is named for Washington Irving books. She picked Headless Horseman for us, next door to Ichabod’s, down the street from Sleepy Hollow Preschool. I drank a beer called Shed, amusingly listed as a Vermont Mountain Beer. It was good, for a Vermont Mountain Beer. The wind had kicked up off the river and the night turned cold. We took breaks between drinks to smoke in the lee of the doorway of the inn, backs braced against the thick wooden door.


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