No Title 2.21.04

Note: After watching Bringing Down the House, I realize that we certainly have a hard time talking about much of anything—racism in this case—without sweeping, broad stereotypes; or perhaps we are all generalizations and condescensions.

Note: The silliest fashion trend—winter knit hats with summer cap brims. So stupid it’s gangsta.

Note: I feel old again; after drinks on the Upper West with Hollycat (who convinced us to make it up there?) Selvadurai/ Dave/ the Fighting Samantha convinced me to see the great Roni Size at Avalon, which was once known as the underage dance mecca Limelight. There was the spike-haired tool, drunk as hell behind us, talking to himself:

Roni Size!
DJ Die!
N-U-T!
B-N-T!
D-S-L!

Or whatever he was saying; and there we were, freezing, waiting to get into a place that I only went to when my only ID was a school ID. The show was live and the place looks pretty cool, though there is something strange about noting places where my friends took lots of codeine; where I hooked up with some girl; where Descha and Tony were kicking it to some women who would have nothing to do with us.

And ohhh, my bunions. My hammertoes! My insole! Dancing in boots and when out of shape is humbling; used to be that Samantha and myself could keep going and going and going. Damned age.