things spilled in the past month:
1) coffee (crotchwards)
2) Me (downstairishly)
3) Me & a 2nd cup of coffee
the effect is so strong that it has been known to actually rip small human beings from their beds during the night, leaving them with bruises resembling...coffee stains.
Other news:
http://www.cigaraficionado.com/Cigar/CA_Archives/CA_Show_Article_Print/0,2812,1573,00.html
http://nymag.com/nymetro/nightlife/barbuzz/11924/
apparently this is legal and I missed it somehow until last saturday, and then incident 2 happened...
http://www.drinklucid.com/
What's Happening:
Ecorche class
Art modeling
fruit dehydrating (peaches/plums currently)
Reading: Rum Diary, Leaves of Grass
Baking, w/ living Brooklyn Starter
Upcoming:
Sumi-e classes
Intensive French
Lazy Italian
a quest for Walt Whitman's Grave
climbing Central Park
Creedmoore Living Museum
speaking of speakeasies,
apparently E.E. Cummings wrote this poem about the bar located next to the ukranian store where the blouse worn during the Cairo market scenes of Raiders of the Lost Ark was sold, and where Nikki and I were glared at by a man with curlers in his cotton colored monopoly-guy mustache.
I was sitting in mcsorley's. outside it was New York and beautifully snowing.
Inside snug and evil. the slobbering walls filthily push witless creases of screaming warmth chuck pillows are noise funnily swallows swallowing revolvingly pompous a the swallowed mottle with smooth or a but of rapidly goes gobs the and of flecks of and a chatter sobbings intersect with which distinct disks of graceful oath, upsoarings the break on ceiling-flatness
the Bar.tinking luscious jigs dint of ripe silver with warm-lyish wetflat splurging smells waltz the glush of squirting taps plus slush of foam knocked off and a faint piddle-of-drops she says I ploc spittle what the lands thaz me kid in no sir hopping sawdust you kiddo
he's a palping wreaths of badly Yep cigars who jim him why gluey grins topple together eyes pout gestures stickily point made glints squinting who's a wink bum-nothing and money fuzzily mouths take big wobbly foot
steps every goggle cent of it get out ears dribbles soft right old feller belch the chap hic summore eh chuckles skulch. . . .
and I was sitting in the din thinking drinking the ale, which never lets you grow old blinking at the low ceiling my being pleasantly was punctuated by the always retchings of a worthless lamp.
when With a minute terrif iceffort one dirty squeal of soiling light yanKing from bushy obscurity a bald greenish foetal head established It suddenly upon the huge neck around whose unwashed sonorous muscle the filth of a collar hung gently.
(spattered)by this instant of semiluminous nausea A vast wordless nondescript genie of trunk trickled firmly in to one exactly-mutilated ghost of a chair,
a;domeshaped interval of complete plasticity,shoulders, sprouted the extraordinary arms through an angle of ridiculous velocity commenting upon an unclean table.and, whose distended immense Both paws slowly loved a dinted mug
gone Darkness it was so near to me,i ask of shadow won't you have a drink?
(the eternal perpetual question)
Inside snugandevil. i was sitting in mcsorley's It,did not answer.
outside.(it was New York and beautifully, snowing. . . .
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