At the Corner of 42nd and Park

I'm sitting in Bryant Park taking advantage of the free wireless and the first thirty minutes of sunshine we've had all day.

What a great weekend. I love this city when I don't live here. I loved the city when I did live here, but it is much easier to have an idealized romantic dalliance with the big apple when you eventually have to go home.

I must have lost my "don't talk to me" face in the four years since I've been out of the city, maybe it reappears in DC, because I've had more encounters with strangers in the past few hours than I have in weeks.

The man next to me in the park just asked me how to pronounce William Rehnquist's name for his citizenship test tomorrow. Then a homeless woman came up and told me this whole shaggy dog story about how she was reading a copy of a Shakespeare play in the park when it started raining and now she can't find the book where she left it. I wasn't quite sure what to say to her. She talked a lot though, and assured me that she had graduated from highschool. She also showed me her black teeth and warned me never to start smoking cigars.

Advice taken,

I will tell more about my time here, which included three shows - all worth mention - and several chance and planned encounters with friends, new and old (including DC favorites Arcticactor and Jimmy the Bag) - as soon as I have a moment.