We’ll put on the day and we’ll wear it until the night comes
Overheard in Chelsea:
(man, either talking to himself or into a headset — it was unclear): “Barnyard animals have camaraderie, but they eat grass. They eat f*cking grass!”
Yeah, I really have no idea. He seemed to be agitated by the anti-Monsanto/GMO protest. They were mostly in Washington Square Park, but a faction had broken off and was headed up Fifth Avenue, against traffic, pursued by a gang of motorcycle cops.
It’s Memorial Day weekend and we’d planned to head up the Hudson River to do some hiking, but we awoke to 40 degrees and raining with a stiff wind. So instead we went took the subway to Manhattan, put on someone else’s shoes and bowled until our arms fell off. We walked until our feet fell off. We bought books at The Strand, stopped for coffee, and then walked some more. AJ bought a pack of 1987 baseball cards with his allowance money. The vintage 27-year-old gum inside disintegrated when it opened, but he was otherwise pleased with his haul.
And now we are home. Mr. Spy is playing The Replacements in the kitchen and making dinner. I am sacked out working. AJ is reading one of his new books. Not what we planned, but okay.