Matt (mooddoogs) wrote,

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an atomic attack

on saturday i went into the city to hang out with some ctyers. mother dropped me off at grand central station around 1:45, at which time i found maxim listlessly circling the information booth awaiting the appearance of his companions. he assisted me in interrogating several police officers with the intent of locating a restroom, and we later set up a circular patrol about the info booth that we might better intercept our comrades upon their arrival. the others showed up in short order; their number was composed of andy martin, rosie, wolfenstein, a-bomb, emily greenhouse, emily m., and muffin's former girlfriend caroline c. wazer. gifts were presented, with andy receiving an original ninja turtles movie dvd from maxim for his birthday, and maxim being given in turn an exquisitely aged guide to a portrait of the artist as a young man.

we rounded the info booth in a square pattern for a few minutes, then moved on to pronto pizza. a-bomb and i discussed some mock trial, more on that in a later entry. he said that he wanted to buy a cheap frisbee to play with maxim and watch me catch the disc in my mouth like a pup, and i made the unfortunate utterance "sure, i'll get on all fours for you". this is the price of having a nickname that's too big to handle. we considered the passion of the christ. opinions were mixed, but i doubt that it'll drive anyone to violence. mel gibson makes mediocre films anyway. and his dad is crazy.

we went from pronto to a small park; i can't remember what it was called, but a-bomb and i christened it "the blasted heath" in reference to its moribund lawn. e.m. wanted to ride a little green carousel at the edge of the park and we obliged her, though the ponies and rodeo kittens were a bit small for a mad dog like myself, so e.g. and i took pictures with maxim's camera. next we wandered without a plan until our group came upon chashama's house of variety, a two-part establishment that was both circus clown family-style sex shop (i don't know either) and sixties happening performance art. fortunately we only visited the art section, which gave patrons the option to paint on the walls or the building's roof, somersault on a soft gymnastics mat, or wear massive foam sunflower necklaces. not to mention the stoned proprietor, who weakly hit me with a funoodle while making tired, uninspired grunting noises. i mostly observed and hung out on the roof when we moved up there. another member of the chashama troupe was sitting in the building's glass storefront, where he conversed with passersby about performance art and life. i headed down to the street with e.g. and a-bomb after a while, and the rest of the group joined us once they departed from the roof. unfortunately, wolfenstein and caroline had to leave in order to head back to white plains.

those who remained watched a cool street hiphop act and moved on to kids r' us, but it was too crowded to accommodate our posse so we didn't stay long. we returned to grand central and sat down in the lower cafeteria level, buying roses and picking up snacks in a small sandwich shop on the way. we played ten fingers and exchanged witty banter till andy and rosie got a ride from his parents. then only a-bomb, maxim, emily m. and myself remained. the other two boys and i wanted to see starsky & hutch, but moin was tired and i had worked out a deal to ride the train to rvc with her in exchange for a free drive back to the north shore, so we set off for penn station, which was about ten blocks away. with the entrance of our destination in sight, moin and i realized that we had to use the bathroom. penn station's is too dirty, so we went to try nathan's. while washing my hands, i was bumped quite rudely by a fellow behind me, but thought nothing of it. moin came out of the women's shortly after i had finished, weeping while gesturing ridiculously and explaining that all the toilets in her bathroom were covered with blood and she would have to use the men's while i stood guard. i reentered the little boy's room and noticed the chap who had bumped me, a suspicious-looking noncauc, carrying a mysterious plastic bag into a stall and beginning to flushing repeatedly, probably emptying the contents of his poor-man's fannypack into the toilet. by this time moin was quite hysterical, and i was prepared to give that noncauc a little what for with my double twin-pistons, as i like to call them: but she relented and chose to face the risk of sitting on disease-carrying biohazard, the alternative being a bloody pummeling for the bag-flusher. regardless, the train arrived without incident and we boarded while maxim and a-bomb remained at the station. moin read some of esquire's latest issue to me during the trip and i was escorted back to sea cliff by her ever-generous and genial parents. i forgot to give back my the star trek tapes and kane karo to moin when it would've been most convenient, oops. recounting last saturday has worn out my hands, so the week's description must wait till later.
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