sunday

The day had started seemingly wholesome enough - brunch with Erica at La Barricou, a couple of screwdrivers accompanying the meal. From there, Erica and I went into the East Village to see Burlesque. A bit of alcohol in us, both of us wanted more for during the movie and tried a couple liquor stores to buy some vodka to hopefully later mix with some orange juice. Outdated liquor laws still in place, we couldn't find an open liquor store, a Sunday. Instead, we popped into a bodega and purchased some Four Lokos to drink during the movie.

We went to Village East, which I had been to before and thought was a dinky little theater, but had never apparently been inside their main theater, which blew me away as soon as I walked into it - what a gorgeous old movie house. I want to try to see more movies inside this theater. Made the experience feel more glamorous, magical.

The movie was what it was and the Four Loko did what it does and the movie actually was insanely enjoyable under the circumstances. Three something in the afternoon, we were let out into the still sunny streets, ready for it to be nighttime already, ready to party. We called up various people in our phonebooks and tried to convince others to join us in our bar crawl of a Sunday afternoon. We went to Patricia Field's and looked at clothes and then stopped in McSorley's because Erica had never been and I hadn't been in a long time and the history of the bar does baffle me. This choice perhaps inspired by being in an old movie house, a desire for the older objects this city had to offer. We stayed there for many rounds of beer, light, then dark, then light again. Jacob joined us. The three of us went to Marie's Crisis. Several more rounds of drinks. A salty, bitter piano player last night. He was only nice to the adoring gay boys on stools in front of him, them dreaming of Broadway stardom, still dreaming, young boys, and him cooling a bit at the presence of people still with dreams, that or he was horny. I don't know. He didn't much care for us for some reason.

We went outside for smokes every now and then, noticing the jazz bar next door, Arthur's Tavern. At some point, we decided to have drinks in there, to bliss out to some beautifully played jazz by a quartet of seemingly retirees. Around ten, having already been drinking pretty much all day, Jacob and I said goodbye to Erica and went to Vandam. There was an open bar and I drank a bunch during it. The place wasn't at all crowded, most people probably still coming down from a Thanksgiving holiday weekend. We danced for a bit. I wanted to go to the Cock, which I hadn't been to in a really long time. Went there, also fairly empty. A couple drinks, none of the dirtiness I wanted. A taxi home. Jacob puking out his guts in the toilet once home. I went to bed.