Galleries were fun, amazing, and more fun. Marcel Dzama show was mind-blowingly good. Rev. Billy performance was good for so many reasons. Mainly, that it was a New Press X-Mas party and I ran into Izzy and drank way too much free booze, and hit on a boy who looked like Mr. Bean and whose name was Gabriel. Hit on an orange-mohaked boy also. Exchanged air kisses with mohawk boy. Rode home before midnight, Cinderella, Cinderella, catching the last L train before it shut down for the weekend, riding with Peter and running into my manager from Borders in Arlington, Virginia in 1999. Crazy small world. And he made some comment about how everyone that worked there was gay. And my bookstore manager from Virginia from 1999, I ran into on the L train. Fucking fucking small world. Time to write some missed connections. Gabe and mohawk boy.