coming home on the F train---had a nice idea for the beginnng of a short story-----about a man who frequents bars, and the "garish nightmare" that the city becomes Friday after 6P.M. New York is the city of bars. There were bars he was treated well in; bars in which he would be avoided; bars in which he would be nurtured---bartenders who would be courteous; bartenders who would flirt with him; bartenders who would find him totally unecessary. There were pick up bars, where he might observe, thinking briefly, that he could participate in the rituals that were going on.Those were his choices, and as he stood on the cormer of Houston street and Second Avenue; or maybe Metropolitan Avenue and Lorimer Street; or Broadway and Myrtle Avenue in Brooklyn, the possibilities seemed infinite.
This was the gist of my vision (writing) how it could be fashioned into a narrative at the moment I don't know.
What of tonight...? Why do movies seem so offputting? Can try Pine Box in Bushwick and take it from there. Not sure, though. Two good days at Friends, winding down.......
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