I slept until 2pm. That is stupid. 3:30 breakfast at the Bel Aire Diner reminded me that the place now has outdoor seating. Too cold today for that but I noticed the chairs piled up outside. I never understood New Yorkers’ fascination with outdoor dining. I associate it with bus fumes, noise, and unwanted attention from listlessly passing pedestrians. That intersection at Broadway and 21st Street seems especially ridiculous for any presumption of elegance or distinction that the very concept of outdoor dining seems to presuppose. It is noisy and crowded out there. The only logic that is sound to me is that it increases capacity, and business. That is the only line of reasoning about the fetish for outdoor dining that makes sense to me. There seems to be this notion that it is Parisian, and that makes it better than, well, not being Parisian. I’ve never been to Paris but from what I understand their outdoor cafés are not exactly out on the street like the sidewalk dining scenarios of here. But, you know, if it looks like Paris or smells like Paris then it must be better than here, right?
Woke up in the middle of the night, don’t remember the time, to wash away my insomnia with some vodka. There was none. So I discovered the small bottle of Rum in the cabinet. I might now be a Rummy, if I do not in fact cease drinking altogether (once again).
Now I am at the library, with not a lot of time before closing. Not feeling articulate or writerly. Might just give up on this. Can’t do the chapel thing tomorrow. Too damn cold for the trek. I could get a Car2Go but there is still the roughly half mile walk through the yard to get to the chapel, where I have no way of knowing ahead of time if the heat would even be on.
OK, I am going to be anywhere but here, which is how I feel about everywhere. Why did I even come here?
