Wednesday, February 23, 2011

O' Noble Beast

What's that Simon and Garfunkel song about being so lonely he takes comfort in the hookers on 42nd St?
I think they were on 7th Avenue.
Smart move. A much higher grade of hooker on 7th than on 42nd.
The assumption here is that we're talking 60s-era 42nd.

A bit grittier than, say, the current one.

I hope it was summertime. I don't like the idea of them standing out there in those short dresses in the dead of winter.
No--that's a troubling thought. The name of the song was The Boxer.

Yes it was.
Did you see Marky Mark in The Fighter?

Yes I did.
Very strong, I thought.
Yes it was.
Anyway, we're not really talking about hookers here. But I do declare there were times when I was so broke I took money for painting dogs.
I'd have preferred a hooker story. There's nothing wrong with that.
No there isn't. There were times when I was so lonesome...
Anyway, we're not really talking about hookers here. And though I'm currently not broke (a situation that vastly outpaces the alternative), I am painting a dog.

This one:

Don't ask.

And when I'm done, I might paint this one:

Smokey, the bottom one, unlike Niea, the top one, is one of my key people on the ground in Brooklyn. And other than my daughter's dog Chloe, it's hard to imagine a finer representative of the species.

O' Noble Beast.

Getting back to Niea for a moment, the secret to painting gray hair is to apply the white paint on a black background. Believe me, I've tried every other way: Applying gray paint; Applying black paint over top of white paint; blah blah blah. The key is to go with the black first, then let 'er rip.

Case in point, as if you needed me to provide substantiation, given your inclination to take everything I write here as gospel, is The American Chicken:

Most particularly the tail area.

For you completists:

I'm listening to a Portishead/Cowboy Junkies playlist on shuffle.

For breakfast, I had a soft-poached egg slathered in a cloud of creme fraiche and Coteaux du Layon, served with crisp sweetbreads, braised lobster knuckles, a frisson of black truffles and tarragon. If you attempt this dish at home, don't forget the tarragon.

I'm wearing black cotton boxer/briefs that I buy from Save on Fifth, a store on the corner of Fifth Avenue and 8th Street in Brooklyn. You can get a pack of two for $6.99. Hanes.

Life is good.


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