Brother's Keeper

Maeve (who lives with my brother AND works with me) is in New Hampshire for the week, so Charlie's on his own. She left him a meatloaf and a macaroni and cheese casserole, but my parents have still asked me to take him out and see that he gets a good meal as he's "looking seedy."

The Hobos of Greenpoint

Well, maybe 'hobo is the wrong word, as that sort of implies some itinerancy and I'm assuming this particular klatch of sots all lives in the near vicinity. There are four main guys, frequently found hanging around the G Station of a morning, drinking Vodka and speaking in Polish. All are very weathered, like old salts really, although I have no idea why. Although they're uniformly surly, they pretty much keep to themselves. There is one with a beard, who is particularly gnarled and nut-brown with a thatch of iron-gray hair. Another wears a very fine argyle sweater. A third, well, has no legs. The fourth one is actually more of a loner, and sort of the worst drunk of the lot, even though they're all drunk at all hours and frequently slumped in doorways on Nassau Avenue. The fourth, who has a moustache, frequently weaves down the street like a cartoon souse,except it's not remotely funny, sometimes falling down or setting off car alarms when he lurches into them. Once over the winter when it was very cold and getting colder I tried to buy him a cup of coffee and get him indoors, but he became furious and sort of tried to punch me. Another time he came into a deli where I was buying a cranberry juice and started screaming at people in Polish, especially me.

The chicken I cooked tonight tasted very peculiar, very peculiar indeed. Darn that Met Food, anyway.

Slim and I just moved the car. Now dishes. Because we're both natural slatterns, we've developed the agreeable habit of reading aloud while the other washes. For a while we were reading from this oral history biog of Alexander Calder Matt picked up somewhere but it was exceedingly tedious and Calder had the habit of mentioning obsessively any "negroes" he encountered. Next we moved on to The Power Broker (talking of racists) which got us through many sinkfuls, let me tell you!

In music news: The The (Soul Mining), Brownbird Rudy Relic, Sandy Denny.

Generation Kill

The other day our Polish neighbor, Bonecrusher,who has PTSD, came by to ask if Slim was home. While they'd hung out in the past, he'd never come by to ask for company before, and was clearly embarrassed. We were about to eat, but Slim went over.

When he'd been gone an hour I brought him a plate of dinner; they were watching Nacho Libre.

An hour later, Slim came by to use the bathroom. "It's getting pretty intense over there," he said. "We're watching Generation Kill.

In another hour (it was by now about 10) he came in looking haggard. "I need a drink," he said. "Bonecrusher wants to show me photos of the people he killed in Iraq,so he won't forget what a terrible person he is."

I cleaned the bathroom and watched 20/20.

"Done?" I asked hopefully when he showed at 11. "Now we're watching The Break-Up," he said grimly. "Apparently Vince Vaughn's character is Polish."

Ultimately, during a round of some war video game, Bonecrusher got so disgusted by Slim's inept killing that he kicked him out and we went to bed.

I asked Slim what his plans for the day were. "I thought I'd do a few push-ups," he said.

As re: Slim, I sorta threw him under the bus for a cheap laugh which is Bad. He didn't mind, of course.

(When I was looking for that link I just happened to see a comment on something I did today. Golly, why should what I say get anyone's ire up? Oh well, such is life on the net, I guess. I have gotten awfully philosophical and thick-skinned, really! A few weeks ago I'd have to go into the bathroom and weep.)

The Montauk Creature

Have you seen The Montauk Creature? It's kind of turtle-like, but covered in fine hairs. Maeve thinks it looks like a Lindwurm, these wingless creatures whom Marco Polo claimed to have seen all over Asia and who figure prominently in Scandinavian folklore. Anyway, Maeve is going to go as The Creature for Halloween, abandoning her previous idea: the Minotaur. She's going to wear a nude bodysuit, cover it with hairs, flies and a judicious dusting of sand; wear a bald cap and a beak. Slim and I are seriously considering Strawberry Shortcake and the Peculiar Purple Pieman. Problem: all available Shortcake duds are kinda slutty, and I want to be as frumpy as possible. Where any of us will wear any of this is an open question.

Long Time, No See

So, since I went temporarily semi-pro as a blogger I've sorely neglected TPS. And now I actually know how to do hotoshop and stuff so it's kind of a waste.

In news: Slim has sorta slid into living with me; a new crop of stoners have taken up residence in his old room, referred to as "the lowland hicks." Effectively, this only means a couple more suits in the closet. Theoretically we want to find a new spot in a month or two but it needs to be cheap enough to suit him and squalid enough to please me - strangely enough more mutually exclusive than one might think. Of paramount importance is, of course, an old-fashioned bathroom with no modern improvements. We're looking all kinds of outlandish places in Staten Island and Sheepshead Bay etc. but I still secretly believe an old eccentric will bequeath us something amazing and dirt-cheap on grounds of general awesomeness.

In clothes news, I am attending Fashion Week in a month's time, which, while ridiculous, is something that Must Be Addressed. I was thinking of hitting up that chick Slim was sleeping with last summer when I thought we were exclusive and he didn't, as she's the only designer I know and apparently won all sorts of prizes at her design school in London, but even I knew this was a Bridge Too Far and ultimately we arrived at the agreeable solution of my wearing the store's new line, which premieres this fall and shows all signs of being vintage-inspired. Am also going to sport a glasses chain.
As re: the wedding, nada. We have various vague plans for engagement parties involving the Nam Wah Tea Room (this incredibly depressing 1920s dim sum parlor on Doyers Street) and this ragtime piano player named Terry Waldo who sometimes plays in Bryant Park while crazy folks leap around wildly. Slim also saw some jazz combo of all kids somewhere in the subway who, if we can ever track them down, we want to have play during cocktail hour. Cocktail hour will involve Miller Hi-Life, the Champagne of Beers.

I have purchased the following:
-High-waisted navy wool skirt, verging on the schoolgirlish but maintaining dignity. This I shall wear with cream turtleneck.
-Cream lambswool cardi with leg o' mutton sleeves.