Finding My Fix: Chronicles of a Travel Junkie

“Hey, I’m at third and eighth, you’d better be ready when I get there!”  Those were Iggy’s words.  And we had our snowball fight in the middle of the Bowery!  We tried to build a snow man, but the snow was too powdery.

A man pulled up with his window rolled down just as I was flinging snow in Iggy’s face.

“You’re not gonna take that are you, man?”

“No,” and he tackled me in the middle of the street.

The light changed and the man drove away saying, “have fun making up!”

Now, wait a second, what…?  No wonder it’s so fard to find any mens in NY; they all think I’m taken.

SO here are some photos from this record breaking snow complete with thunder and lightning and 60mph winds that just stopped about an hour ago:

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As I sit here, procrastinating a much needed shower because it’s cold in here and I don’t like to get wet when it’s cold; I think I’ll share with you one of the most bizarre sites I have ever layed eyes on in New York City.  Now Naked Cowboy, and large houses driving east on 4th St may already be enough for you, but here’s what happened to me about a week or so ago:

I was talking to my grandma, and I was ranting and raving about Freudian theory because she had just suggested I go study it in Switzerland, to which I had to shout, “You mean study a theory that tells me I’m afraid of spiders because I have a repressed desire to have sex with my father? Are you kidding me?  I’m not going to study psychoanalytic theory!” 

And if you know me well enough, I pace when I’m on the phone.  At this particular time, I was pacing the entire ten shuffles across my apartment from the window to the kitchenette with its listing stove, and back again.  Well as I spoke, I took a glance out of my seventh floor window.  Ah, pretty garden, nice chickens.

It wasn’t until a good bit later, when I paced back to my window just at the moment in my grandma’s sentence when she was uttering some uninteresting preposition, like “of” perhaps, that I realized… wait a second, those are chickens on that roof over there!  There are chickens on a sixth story roof in the middle of the East Village, down the street from CBGB’s, next door to a homeless shelter!  Chickens pecking at window boxes that somehow balance on a wall 60 feet in the air.  Chickens!

It's going to be a while before this trip will start. I figure I'll share a little day trip, you might call it, that I took in New York two weeks before I left. Sunday morning I was feeling depressed and ... [Continue reading this entry]