# Blah blah blah



## guythegreg (Jun 15, 2012)

Well, dawn has broken, and little pieces and shards of it are still being swept up in nearby alleyways, and to be found glinting lonely and sharp beneath dumpsters, but still it's a glorious day which remains behind. Bright, sunny, pleasant, the yolk has broken, a real New York pedestrian day. (Pedestrians are the kings of New York, its heart, its soul, perhaps other less significant organs. There are many gorgeous, large-breasted wobbly women, who do not mind being looked at and appreciated. And there are very few ********! which is good. Present company excepted, of course.)

It would possibly be less glorious were my weight above 184 pounds. It's been quite some time since I entered the realm of life in which one must either resign oneself to carrying around three stone extra or watch every pound like a hawk, and I definitely ate too much last week, and still I lost weight (at least, by the scale I used, which who knows how good it is, but anyway.) (I know, viewers everywhere are rolling their eyes and saying to themselves, why did I think this guy's post would be worth reading? Did he say something funny at one time, or something?)

Or perhaps less wonderful if the farmers' market were not all set up in Union Square, as it does every Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday, and fresh (that is to say, not hothouse) strawberries are now available. I bought a mess of them and ate them for breakfast: they were juicy and good. I knew you'd want to know.

And maybe if I had not won YET ANOTHER customer service of the month award at work - I know, who delights in getting a good customer service award? Doesn't it tell you you're a customer service guy, which you should be properly ashamed of, for being such a failure, and not a doctor or a lawyer or something? But so it is, and I'm not, that's just who I am. I do it well. Basically, I'm a drifter - a local drifter, actually, as I'm sure police reports will one day indicate. I drift through life like a jellyfish, having abandoned (as jellyfish do) my plantlike youthful existence, and now I go where I want and do what I can manage to do.

No; the odd thing is, I'm only ashamed of it when I have to put it into writing. I don't mind admitting to people I meet that that's what I do; it doesn't bother me to do my job; it's only here that it gives me any pain. Huh.

And finally if I didn't have that ticket to look forward to tonight - Romeo and Juliet, at the American Ballet Theater, and who cares who's dancing? I've loved Prokofiev's R&J ever since my teenage years, when I had a record (a large disklike plastic object, that rotated on a turntable, with a needle attached to relay variations in the plastic surface to a transducer which produced sound) of three different R&J selections - Prokofiev, Tchaikovsky, and Berlioz - one of my favorite recordings. so tonight will be wonderful. I think it was Balanchine that said, if you're not enjoying the ballet, just close your eyes and listen to the music. I actually have a hard time with ballet. There's so much astonishingly good stuff on Youtube - but when you go to the theater it just puts me to sleep. I no exaggerate. My head starts to fall. I saw an amazing pas from Don Quixote on youtube, with i think paloma herrera and angel somebody or other - omg it was great - and I got the DVD and it was the only good bit on the whole disk. yeesh. I had to give it to the library.

Well blah blah blah. That's more than enough for today I think. Can you tell I've been reading Jane Austen?


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