Cappuccino at the Algonquin

Sometimes the most mundane of tasks like banking and post office can wear me out with the very nature of their evil necessity in life. I’m a San Francisco-esque proponent of everything in life becoming virtual, never having to leave the house to do anything, just stay tuned to wifi and life is grande. But strolling around the UWS this afternoon doing my banking and post office-ing, I’ll curb my enthusiasm for the ivory tower ideology of the previous sentence because as fate would have it I needed some quiet and cappuccino and low and behold there’s the Algonquin Hotel. Never been inside. So here I am by my lonesome having a cappuccino at the Algonquin watching a lot of preppie guys in red pants check in. For the record I almost wore red pants today but chose green instead for some accentuation in the prosperity realm of possibilities. As we can tell here I like to write, I always call myself a writer when the inevitable question of “what do you do?” comes up. What do you write? Oh, everything. I prefer fiction because it takes me away, but I’ve done everything from my journalistic endeavors to features to editorials to grants. Right, not just vile sexts, but a few more meaningful things I can share with more than just one big Daddy. Part of the reason why I started this blog was to hold myself accountable as a reclaimed New Yorker. I’m always on the iPhone anyway. Might as well account for my time in some kind of artful fashion. Keeps me from overediting which is a flaw I’ve never been able to dismiss from my bag of character defects. There’s plenty to do and time always seems to be slipping away. I suppose it’s called getting older. But someone wise once said that you should always have something to look forward to in life and luckily now I have a few of those. So I’m feeling at home here at the Algonquin Hotel, immune to the tedium of the street and the mundane morbidity of banks and post office lines. When a man finds his place in the world there’s no longer a fear of losing his way. Cheers to Tuesday which means nothing.

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