Sunday, November 6, 2011

Hello my love, ensconced here once again up in the Brooklyn aerie. Whatever grand plans I might try to form, tend these days to get knocked down to size, just as well, truly. I settled the situation about the outrageously priced kirby - Exhibit A on the scale at the storefront row of cash registers - I missed the weight, but saw that it keyed in as $0.73. "And you bought just one cucumber?" Yes. The trial continued. "There must have been another item on the weight," posited the interlocutor. Perhaps so. I was refunded $4.90, and the clerk retained the original receipt - as well she should. I really don't know what happened. Now I'm thinking - was there another vegetable on the weight? I don't think so though, it's not as though I'd corrected that mistake, but somehow gotten something else for nothing. I really don't know what happened.

Before I proceed with my day, may I just say what enjoyable moments I had just now, before sitting down to write to you, in the kitchen, preparing my meal for this evening? It's a top floor apartment, so it gets every bit of light available - now that - yes, at 5:21 it's pitch black out. But before then, besides a squirrel trying to get in the apartment - I heard chirping and scratching at the closed window & screen, and I have the idea that it was trying to raise the window - and that it knew how to do so - to get at the catfood plate. (Our friends have had a problem with the evolved "Melchisedec" - who has in fact, in summer months, gnawed through the screen and devoured the food on their cat's plate. (Miss P isn't a picky eater at all, as it turns out - she chows down, this weekend that I'm here (and last time I was here too) now that she doesn't have to defer to a belligerent squirrel.)

Darling. Perhaps I should have taken myself out for a glass of wine at the end of the day around here. You know, I've been getting quite approving looks from quite attractive men, on the street, passing by, wherever, this weekend. It's a nice feeling. I don't feel invisible. And so the thought occurred to me to take myself out to a winebar. But I couldn't quite muster it. I wanted to, in some respect - simply because I would enjoy a glass of wine in an environment that would be sure to be creative & evocative & friendly & lovely, anyplace around here. But I didn't quite have the cash - I have around $11 left, after replacing my toy (might have purchased a different one - and was at the cash register about to do so - but when the clerk checked the appliance to make sure it worked - inserting batteries - I realized to my horror that this new thing (which I had comparatively contrasted & compared with display model fully-charged "old thing" - and had decided on "new thing") - takes a "C" battery, a single fat one, not the two pairs (!) I have charged & recharged & supercharged at all hours. Do you see, darling, it was like buying a car - suddenly I saw under the hood - OMG - diesel? no, no -

I'm sure that analogy fell flat, but forget analogies - I slammed on the brakes at the cash register. I can't buy the "pirates" model. It doesn't take the kind of battery that I can recharge. In my recharger!

A different clerk than usual rang me up - and despite that my Own Private Public Sex Therapist Clerk ("no I prefer verisimilitude..." "I don't actually focus on the G-spot") didn't take it personally when - because of the batteries issue - settled back on good ol' reliable blue.

And I had a wonderful time with you and it, when I came home after the Almodovar, and the walk afterward up Bergen to Park Slope. My walk of the day, without weights, but nicely dressed, and smile on my face.

about the Almodovar - mixed feelings
loved seeing Antonio Banderas in a role that challenged him
it was visually arresting

as I was leaving the theatre I quipped to a stunned couple -
can't wait for the opera

which it might work better as an opera - it was ultimately that operatic

maybe in the future I should read reviews in advance
I hadn't read even one about this one,
I go to an Almodovar on the strength of Almodovars
(as one might view one Goya, over another Goya)

it played minor disturbances when I came back afterward
and test-drove my own personal beemer
unfortunately hot but highly disturbing images played on my own fantasies
but soon enough I got zen or yoga or however one wishes to call it
quite centered and focused

it turns out that the replaced blue toy
ten dollars off with coupon
works every bit as effectively as the old one
and is quieter - perhaps because it's new

I had the moment I needed
and have chosen not to go back out
one of the options, believe it or not, might have been
a "free reading" at the local international arts colony
taking place at a bar in the Village tonight (where's 85 East 4th?)

I imagined showing up there, as a joke, if I had the energy
since I so often attend their upstate readings

but I didn't have the energy - but think of them

anymore than I had the energy
like that moralistic - maybe? - scary movie that
starred Diane Keaton, way back when
Looking for Mister Goodbar
So that little thread occurred to me

I know that one has to date & do some maneuvering & dancing
before settling down

well yeah, I'm in the mood for some of that maneuvering & dancing
so that I have a companion in the tiny kitchen
as I assemble a salad for myself
late afternoon light aglow before its precipitous break into night
organic mesclun, avocado, CSA tomato, carrot, red onion
so huge a salad I had to divide in two
too much for me, for this meal

Part of the exorbitant charge at the gourmet market
was a premade bottled dressing - "balsamic fig"
I'll let you know how that is

Darling, darling, all my love
kids are playing stickball down on the street
only with metallic pipes (what?)

sleep well

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