jeudi, mai 31, 2007

Michelle was going away to Sweden for a month and half, so we had a little family lunch at No. 9 Park.

"Oh my," went the manager as I hopped in first, crutches in hand. "I never expected our first table to be literally hopping in."

I love this place. I do. Best food in Boston. Period. The ambiance is perfect for conversations both serious and frivolous, AND John the barkeep makes the best drinks ever.

Vermont Quail Roulade
Potato Crusted Yellowfin
Chocolate Ganache Cake

"Hey is that Jack Welch at the next table?" someone whispered over.

"I don't know actually. It could be? I've only seen him on book covers." I whispered back.

A few hours later, Luke and I were watching the Red Sox pre-game show and there he was, in the same pink shirt he had on during lunch.

jeudi, mai 17, 2007

ankle surgery in a few hours.


jeudi, mai 03, 2007

funny. i talk, but i do not talk to anyone anymore. hey.

high come down.

at the moment of composition it is 257 in the morning. thursday already. this week was a muted hell. i hated many parts of it. terribly. painfully. but somehow i am here. sufjan stevens - all delighted people. it's a bit soft, could you turn up the volume a bit? thank you.

people came over this evening. first ayman, then capo. then capo left on his motorbike to see about a girl. there was some scotch, some beer. and then a phone started ringing and there was news of a few more on the way.

"hey that's the door - let me get it," says luke, taking a quick sip of his drink before stepping out.

christine. amanda. pause, then paul caponetti. amelia arrives a bit later. maybe a half hour later.