Hello hello hello. Good morning. Hi Howdy. I am alive. Thank you for your patience in this matter. New York was fine. It was New York. I like that place. There were moments I deeply, achingly missed living there. There were moments where I just wanted to go home.

Amtrak was lovely. Moynihan Station is very pretty but very crowded and its way finding signs could use a little bit of work. Weird to go from that beautiful new station to the old familiar dregs of the underbelly of Penn Station to catch the A.

SoHo was SoHo and it still feels like home even though that is absurd, SoHo is no one’s home, but that’s why I loved living there so much. Packed to the gills with tourists, beauties from them midwest walking about the media and retail beauties into which they will evolve, and the goddesses that haunt our fashion magazines. And a bunch of sweaty dudes of all nationalities and ages. Just marvelous.

Walked by my old apartment. Got emotional. Had a dream about that apartment last night.

The hotel remembered me, which is always nice. I told them I directed the company to do the off-site there, so hopefully they keep treating me well, despite the rarity of my visits these days. I know the notes section of my account must read like a Bukowski novel because the first thing they did was bring me two more bottles of water – in addition to the two already there. A residual, no doubt, of the time I drunkenly slept through my flight and my wife’s increasingly frantic phone calls and they had to do a “wellness check.” Ahh the good old days.

Twas lovely to see the co-workers, we got a little tasting lesson thing at Murray’s cheese shop and I ate all the cheeses except one very stinky, gooey cheese that was so liquid it came in a bowl. Not for me, thanks. They have us a parting gift of cheese, which I carried around for me the rest of the night.

Dinner at the Dutch in that private room in the basement. The Dutch is clearly no longer the belle of the ball with lines around the corner n shit but people still go, it is still hopping. May have succeeded in being “a staple,” which in a lot of ways is the bigger accomplishment.

Unfortunately both places do zero acoustic treatments on their private rooms so the sound bounces and echoes and everyone converses more and more loudly to compensate till you’re all just screaming at each other. I hate that. Kinda shut down from that and a bit too much AI discussion for a bit.

But once we got out of there I dragged the willing to Toad Hall. Same bartender as has been for the last 20 years. About as friendly as he has been that whole time, but he remembered me at least. The public bar was, ironically, the quietest place to talk in. We started with maybe 20 people, maybe 10 headed to Toad Hall, slowly trickled down to 4 or 5. I self-indulgently regaled the youngins with tales of my life in SoHo, smoking with Christo at 3 AM on the stoop. They did not know who Christo was.

We went to bed at a reasonable hour. I got eleven hours of sleep. I DID get to show them the empty night time streets of SoHo, show them why its such a beautiful neighborhood. The night time. When no one is there. You, me, some trust fund kids, and a few old people who bought their buildings in the 70’s.

Woke up and there was a block of aged Manchego on the desk in my hotel room and reader, I ate that whole block.

Laguardia is Laguardia, it’s an impressive feat of engineering and I hate to say it but I miss the shithole of old Laguardia. I do have to say though, I went through security in 2 minutes, didn’t touch anything, didn’t talk to anyone. After 25 years, billions of dollars, and our loss of privacy, they may have finally sorted out security lines at airports.

Crazy to think I have like 70% of a book done about Laguardia that I’ll never get around to finishing because they went and re-build the airport on me.

I wanted to support my old local Bubby’s but I mean. $25 for a turkey sandwich?? I couldn’t do it. So instead I went to Dos Toros and paid $17 for a burrito. They had a single item on the menu that was marked “good value!”

It was a $4 can of Diet Coke.

I am a millionaire who makes very good money and even I think this inflation is a fucking pain in the ass. I absolutely cannot fathom how people are managing this and how there is a single non-millionaire Republican out there at this point. Scott Bessent got asked about inflation yesterday and he said “it’s weird no one asked Biden about inflation” and bitch we were all sick of it then and it’s probably the main reason Trump won again. But here it is, getting worse and worse.

It’s almost like you can be personally greedy, not care about anyone but yourself and STILL find reasons to be sick of this guy.

Join the GMHHAY slack! Reply to this email and ask for an invite if you’re a human who likes chatting with other humans about topics such as these within!

Listening to “Three Strange Days” by School of Fish right now, part of a “Thank you WFNX” playlist I started ages ago but couldn’t finish because a lot of the great regional hits from the good old days are still not on Apple Music/Spotify. Someone for the love of god get They Eat Their Own on streaming. Actually I think that was it. If I can’t put “Like a Drug” on a “Thank you WFNX” playlist, it is not a proper WFNX playlist. Someday, someday.

I am eternally jealous Jussi got to see School of Fish at the Cambridgeside Galleria.

Jane has come out of her room and is looking to be fed. Looks like we will be finishing this up later.

And now I have returned. We went to the babka place and an old man started chatting with us, giving me parental advice. He has no kids. Didn’t stop him. Ex drunk, divorced, dying of some unidentified degenerative disease, but seemed healthy and happy and kind. The other patron lady at the coffee shop went to UNC. We talked about Walmart. Then to the playground for two hours. Man the day is getting on. But that’s okay because it is a DAY OFF.

Last night Jussi babysat for us (Jane loves auntie Jussi’s babysitting) and Emma and I went to opening night of Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma. At the beloved Brookline indie, the Coolidge. 35MM print. I love that theater. I avoided it for a decade or so because I had a nemesis that worked there but that seems over now. Also that is dumb, the beef has aged out.

T’was a great movie, though I have many questions and especially one question regarding the song selection in one scene. It seemed very wrong. But I could tell it held a deeper meaning than I was picking up on. Oh shit dangling preposition my mom would kill me. On which I was picking up sounds dumb though. We carry on.

Bah duh bump.

Anyway, beautiful film, unexpectedly far more funny than Jane Schoenbrun’s previous outings. I have seen them both. I was in a Movie Secret Santa (excellent idea) over Christmas of 2021 so I saw We Are All Going to the World’s Fair not long after it came out and I have kept up. Jane has great long titles. As a former band member of Rockets Burst from the Streetlamps and We Are All Drainage for Angels, I feel a kinship to anyone who gives things long titles.

Emma has not seen a Schoenbrun film but went for Gillian Anderson, and shit, man. I mean, I know Gillian is a great actress but this might be her best performance ever. Masterful.

We ran into Victoria and her niece (I think?) Katie (I think?). We got to sit behind them. And after the film we ran into Ivel and Memet. And apparently we just messed Richard. They were all at a different movie. But it is so great to run into friends randomly. FRIENDS. It’s a thing I love about Boston. I will definitely miss it.

Did some playground time with Jane last night before the movie and Sean sang a line from “Hole in the Bucket” as a joke. Because there was a bucket. With a hole. At the playground. Anyhoo Jane didn’t know the song, so we sang it for her and then I stupidly pulled out Youtube to play her the Sesame Street version and she was suddenly back into video addict land. Emma said she had been great the whole time I was gone. And I fucked it up because I suddenly felt super guilty I hadn’t taught her all these dumb songs from my childhood like those and “I’m Being Swallowed By a Boa Constrictor.” But, you know. Who can remember the words. It’s been almost 50 years. But, then, back in the day, no one remembered the words and now we have 1,000 versions of each of these songs. Like the “Found a Peanut” on Youtube I found the dude does not die? WTF. Isn’t that the whole po int of the Found a Peanut song?

And now I guess even if we lazy-ass parents do manage to teach our kids Found a Peanut or Whole in the Bucket, they’re all gonna learn the same set of lyrics, and it’s totally just going to be the lyrics chosen by the YouTube algorithm.

We had back to NC tomorrow. I am happy and sad. I have a lot of records and a Steam Machine waiting for me. But I will miss my friends.

OK fine here is the half-finished FNX playlist. Thought of a few more songs, got it over 50 minutes. That’s close to an hour, right? Also “Windshield” from Green Magnet School should be on here. That band needs to get some stuff on streaming. Masterpiece, that song.

OK have a lovely weekend. Will see you on Monday! Might even have tales of chores!