currently trapped at la guardia gate B3, missed three flights, booked.

MoMA was a flash mob that looked more like shopping mall during boxing day than a world renowned modern art gallery featuring the world's greatest art collection. shuffling down escalators, flowing by duchamps in a flow of people, passing all the works that i've spent the passed two years studying in short glimpses, mostly obstructed by hands holding iphones and headsets reiterating the artists statement in every language. in a near panic, I meet up with cody to go for lunch.
get to central park and are now encircled in large black flies while we eat our warm prepackaged trader joes greek salad. at least we are out of the crowds. I think if I had to go down fifth avenue on a daily basis I would wear a robe of rubber snakes, or cover myself in powdered sugar to get people out of my way as I walked steadily down the street.
Go to the Central Park Zoo, its really old, to get away from the crowds and attempt to reconnect with nature. People are seen posing, pretending to put their arms around a snow leopard that sits behind a thick layer of, hopefully one way glass. It was the same way at MoMA, why do people pose in front of famous or strange things, like a Pollack or a Picasso with their thumbs up? They only recognize the paintings from tote bags sold at shopping centers around the continent. Or they don't even see the work in real time, through their own eyes, but through a computer screen that inherently brightens, contrasts and alters life.
buy the Ballad of Sexual Dependency by Nan Goldin at the MoMA bookstore.

We walk across the Brooklyn Bridge into DUMBO (Down under the Manhattan bridge overpass).
Find a great mexican place order long island ice teas. an older puerto rican woman, we name Rosa, is our amazing waitress. She randomly asks Cody if she liked French dressing, we aren't eating a salad. I question them about a particular mexican traditional drink on their menu, no one knows what it is, so they google on their phones, saying if anyone orders it they usually tell the customers they are out of it. Great and cheap place.
Walk down the street to a gastropub, order a beer pronounced Cezzane, like the painter, but is spelled Season. Its made of grains of paradise and is ruby red and delicious. We don't know what an old fashioned is, so we order it because its the only drink I can think of, and we both ask what it is after its put in front of us. terrible stuff they are though, like a candy store long forgotten since the 1800s where all the sweets have been fermenting and stewing in large teak cabinets.

drink another beer in a G8 summit sculpture under the Brooklyn Bridge, all the personalities are there, en replica, but are three feet tall sitting cross legged in the grass. I only recognize Obama and Harper.

Subway to Brooklyn Heights around midnight monday find a place selling cheap eats and beers on a huge patio with umbrellas. I order a catfish taco, Cody, a hot dog. We then see people carrying these corn-like cobbed delicacies around. We order them too and devour them. I find out they are corn cobbs dipped in butter, then mayonnaise, then mexican cheese, cayene pepper and cilantro. Geeze! Oh and beers were only $2.00 for a Brooklyn IPA! Where can I get this in Vancouver?

no roaches tonight.

(Back to real time)
Children coughing, my bladder filling, been awake since 4am. Cody is in Kansas City. America is run on Dunkin. I hope I make it to San Francisco today.

wish me luck.