2005-07-29 || 11:24 p.m.

|| holy shoot, dude! ||

but oh! i am drunken!
get me to split a bottle of wine and i am yours forever.
among other things, i was walking along 8th avenue last night and happened upon the kindliest cat. all black. i was certain it was a ghost cat. she rolled over nad licked my hand profusely, and then proceeded to walk wiht me (i am not going to correct misspellings, dude.) three blocks. enchanting! i ended up meeting the fellows at a bar and when i had to leave her i got rather choked up. ghost cat, why must you sit so squarely at the corner when i say goodbye to you? when i ascertained my party was on the back patio with an outlet to the street, i made a beeline back to the cat post proimising a great payoff. it turns out eighth avenue was the very border of her territory, however, and she refused to hang out with me at the bar. absolutely heart breaking. even the promise of peruvian beer and manhattans (the favorite drinks of the ghosts i know) wouldn't woo her outside her perimeters.
we sat and drank. earlier that evening i got to rekindle my friendship with dear ezra by way of happy hour, bus rides, and alberta street last thursday festivities (another story unto itself.).
after my ghostly drinks (here's to you, uncle nick!) we packed up and headed for home and whilst wedged on the handle bars of michael bland's three speed, we spied a treasure trove of discarded books. i scored the bodice ripper island of swans and m.b. got enough books to overflow his messenger bag. we are not ones to overlook bins of goodness.

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