Hungover from a party in Staten Island last night, south of the Narrows. There were only four of us, but I managed to drink most of a bottle of white wine, a glass or two of red, and several shots of good rum. Very much wanted to caress the back of H who was sitting next to me after we moved to the living room. It being around 4 when the party wound down, I slept but barely on the couch there. Before that, we all took a walk on the beach and the women became cold, so I lent H my jacket. She looked very good in it. Spent some time with R yesterday, nursing her to recovery with an omelet and a slice of Steve’s key lime pie; an Inner Borough resident, she was shockingly unaware of its sublimity, not to mention its therapeutic effects. She now has bionic ears. Then in the park with M to look at some trees before walking down to the lions (Romulus and Remus? – M’s joke) at the Big Library to meet E who was to be my Virgil for the Isle of Staten. First time I'd ever set foot there in Ghoulianiland. We took an express bus, a first for me. $5 fare. The bottles of wine I was carrying for the trip to the insular hinterland rolled away from me under the seats. Minor hilarity followed. When we got off the bus, I noted a group of burly white guys in the middle of the street and was about to make some crack about the mob when I notice they are all packing pistols.
Today’s largely been a wash, with a late shave and shower and an urge to go to bed now. Did get H’s number though and talked of doing something Monday eve.