Saturday, July 7, 2007

Kind of petty: told the owner of the local pizzeria about what gk4 (his real name, sorta) did, and Anthony declared that he is no longer welcome there. Couldn't resist including this information in an email which ostensibly dealt with the few remaining logistic loose ends of our relationship. Know full well it'll cut him to the quick. I feel like a worm, although I guess some scorned babes are more psychotic still.

Full, hot day: after we woke up, got a coffee at d'Amico and walked Court Street. Then took the subway to the Strand, did a little walking tour of the village (more on this later), had a burger at Corner Bistro, went to the Merchant's House Museum, walked the East Village, watched soccer for an hour, watched the beginning of the Met game at Tom and Jerry, met Raha and Tom for Vietnamese, had a cocktail at Milk and Honey (more on this later), and then came home by way of the Community Bookstore, where I bought 2 Graham Greenes, plus The Artist's Way, because Liz had just been telling me to "even if it sounds cheesy" and there was a used copy right by the register. The fridge was fixed, but the landlady (more likely her brother) had taken the liberty of closing all the windows and gates. No doubt I'll get holy heck from them about it, plus it was like an oven when we walked in.

Postcard from Eloise, featuring illustration of Warm Springs, VA:

"Just had a lovely soak in this 18th c. bathhouse that T. Jefferson built in the lukewarm, rather sulfurous water. Sadly, drinking the water is no longer encouraged. By FAR the best part of the experience were the modest bathing dresses issued by a rather mammy-ish woman: cotton calico, cheerfully patterned and adorned with rick-rack and a single button fastening on the shoulder! Inexplicably, NONE of the women in the Ladies' Bathhouse had chosen to wear this darling garment, and were attired in bikinis instead! Fortunately a large group of probable female Civil War enthusiasts arrived and gamely put them on, so I was no longer alone in my modesty. James reported that the atmosphere in the Men's Batthouse was decidedly SEEDIER and that were were some definite lurkers/oglers of the type more commonly associated with batthouses..."

At the top is a little illustration, labeled "Modest Bathing Costume."

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