Sunday, 07 September 2003 | Vase

I can remember details of the past few days, but trying to recount the sequence is like trying to put a broken vase back together. In no order, I: met a new superhero (a man with red tights and a cape) who was being followed around town by a video camera; walked the High Line (an out-of-use elevated railroad on the west side of Manhattan); watched Ghostbusters in Central Park, sitting on hard ground veiled by a thin blanket; bartended at a party/art opening in exchange for tips; went to a (different) art opening in the garage of a house; biked around Brooklyn (which is like biking through tiny countries, as often as the people and surroundings change); saw a friend's band play; inspected and considered renting a new apartment; played tennis rather badly; played fussball rather badly; looked at stars on the Manhattan side of the East River; danced in a hip-hop club; took three rolls of film; and hung out with (and introduced) old and new friends.

Everything that I meant to get done but didn't do has turned into an intimidating monster, one that is good at growing up fast.