stumbling distance

i am LOVING my new home. deep in the city's guts, it is stumbling distance to everywhere i want to be.

stumbling distance to the pita pit where the other morning, sputtering through the haze of another-last-night's beer and tequila and champagne, i tripped into its too-bright lights and too-bright signs. i averted my eyes in pain and they fell upon the pierced, dreadheaded countergrrrl. "please, make me something," i pleaded gently, "i eat anything." she stared blankly for a second before stepping up to my challenge. "ok," she said, and went about making my mystery breakfast. grilled chicken and condiment choices i would not have made blended into a delicate, subtle taste explosion. clearly, she was a Mistress of the Pita, and i let her have her glorious way with me. thank you, Mistress.

stumbling distance to the megaplexotheatre where last night, riding a whim of sudden freedom, i met up with a friend for "Black Snake Moan" - a great movie with a lamentable ending. but a great movie and oh how i crave already to see again that scene, with Samuel L. Jackson singing some dirty bastard blues and Christina Ricci (alarmingly skinny but still sexy as ever) writhing among a mob of sweating smiles.

stumbling distance to some of the city's finest diner dining, where this morning i skipped through a sunny spring morning to sit at a weathered table and enjoy sweet sustenance while reading words like "Holy flowers floating in the air, were all these tired faces in the dawn of Jazz America." (yes, i'm *still* reading Kerouac - i've been busy dammit!!)

stumbling distance to that classic lounge where the dirty-haired hipsters muse and marvel. old school whiskey shack with sly-grinned servers and addictive characters, like the captain who inspired a fascinating fable and my wild-strawberry-and-swiss-alp-haired brit.

and where shall tomorrow's stumblings take me? i wonder, i wonder... la la la-la...