Stuie came to visit last week. I was working when he arrived. He couldn't get the keys to my apartment, so he hung out at local restaurants for four hours until I was off. I think he told me that he ate a philly cheesesteak, two tacos, a slice of pizza, and a cinnabun. I saw him at one in the morning walking towards me with his rolly bag. That guy...
We got back to the apartment, cracked open a chocolate milk, and talked news and logistics for the days to come. How's your sister? How's law school? You look thinner. What have you been cooking? Do you need me to shave your head while I'm here? What do you think Tom Izzo is doing? Where'd you get that chocolate milk? My, my, those are nice shoes you have. Where do you think we should get pizza? How do you feel about this New York air? And so on.
One night, Stuie's friends Nick and Liz took us around the East Village. I almost didn't make it. Stuie and Nick and Liz were already out at drinking drunk punch and phones were dying and people were getting tired and I was in the subway. But I found one of those ghost trains when I was off work that took me right to my destination and screwed all the other passengers.
I boarded the train. I thought it was a D, but the dude said over the intercom, "This is the G express train to wherever Rob wants to go" So we went.
We rendezvoused at the drunk punch bar. I drank a glass, then we were off to this Japenese speak-easy with a detour to a shitty pizza place. The pizza was excellent. The bar was closing when we arrived. They let us have a quick drink. I ordered a Get-er-done or something like that. They brought me the glass upside down over some smoking incense. They flipped it over and poured my drink tableside. I was into it.
More drinks at a sake bar. More drinks at a lesbian dive bar. More pizza at an imitation Ray's pizza. And we were home at 7am.
I've been thinking about what the hell this blog is about these days. It used to have such a defined purpose with a beginning and an end, you know: Discover America. Friendship. Make it to Bliss. Often, it seems a bit self-indulgent to continue with the blogging when the conflict -- make it to Bliss -- has been resolved.
But Stuie comes to visit, and I think, Man, this is good. People should know. And I'm hit with all these Thoreauvian notions with the universality and infinity of "Discover America. Friendship. Make it to Bliss." And suddenly there are so many things that I feel you should know. And so many things that I should know. And so much more chocolate milk to drink and frozen chocolate covered cheesecake on a stick to eat. And we'll always have that conflict with making it to Bliss. And sometimes we'll make it. And sometimes, you'll see, that we won't.