I’m in the East Village where people are walking in crazy zig zags from the late Spring warmth. I’d kinda forgotten how much this neighborhood is a Mecca for certain stripe of classic New York City bohemianism… aging eccentrics, tatooed teenage exiles from suburbia who wanna end up in a coffee table book, and the like — meanwhile I’m feeling rather like a tourist, which may be a warning sign of the early onset of frumpiness.

(Sent from my Palm phone).

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