Errrr.

1. Joseph's roommate, Brianne, likes to shriek while she blowdries her hair. Says it helps her to "get out all the crazy."

2. New Yorkers are hideously stingy with their Diet Coke.

3. Cocoa butter is amazing.

So tonight, I exit my building. I turn to head down the steps and am immediately whistled at. You know, the sort of whistle you get from truckers, or tacky men in their cars as your are walking to the Barksdale to do the laundry. And one of these whistles is usually 90% annoying, the other percent secretly complimentary. You figure, they would not whistle at my grandmother, after all.
I of course decide not to turn around to examine who is whistling at me, and carry on. But this man keeps on whistling. And whistling. I began to think perhaps it was an attack of Turrets that just happened to kickoff when I stepped onto the porch. At any rate, this man has no doubt whistled his way to a very uncomfortable tonsillectomy.
I evaulate what I am wearing that is causing such a fuss. Blue sundress that zips up the front (which I hear can be very attractive--unzip, and there you go) but that zipper is currently hidden under my very sexy backpack strap. Flat filthy pink crocs. And then I realize- I brushed my hair. That must have been what did it.
Anyhow, I walk briskly to the 7 train which is a staggering 3 blocks away and not outside my bedroom door like the E/V. But there is a sign at all the E/V stations that essentially says, "For the duration of Audra Honaker's holiday in New York, all E/V trains will not run between the hours of anytime convenient-when you have no business being outside."
I take the train into the not-numbered section of Manhattan.
I arrive at Spring St. No idea. Glance at the wall map to see if I can get a handle on where I am. The map has a helpful circle that says "You Are Here." This circle encompasses, at minimum, seven city blocks.
So I cockily jounce up the steps thinking I can surely figure this out. And walk for twenty minutes before I break down and call Sam after having encountered a gaggle of policemen surrounding a small Korean woman lying flat on her back in the middle of Kenmore Ave. Nothing appeared to be drastically wrong. She seemed to have just decided she needed to lay down. People were being sent for ice.
So I find this bar Epistrophy. Which is no small miracle even given that I had the address and explicit directions. Sam tends to favor all the bars and cafes in this city that do not have their title on them anywhere. The first day I got here he gave me text directions to his favorite cafe, Cafe Ost. I walk directly to this corner and see it nowhere. A few days ago we passed this corner and he points it out to me. I tell him that this is obviously an abandoned building with a few chairs inside and ask why there is no sign. He tells me oh but there is and under careful scrutiny, on tip toe, squinting, with those special night vision goggles from Jurassic Park you can make out

cafe Ost


This bar Epistrophy was no different. Elite, I suppose. It was nice though, with necessary tables outside and couches and magazines inside. Not too dark, and wine everywhere. I asked to see a menu just to see if one existed. It did. In an entirely different language. Ice cream was phrased, "Illettimontitti Parufsnial."
Sam is stationed on a couch directly inside and to the right next to what would happen if Joseph and Matt Shofner had a son. And then the son grew up and wore tight mahogany pants and glasses you are pretty sure he doesn't actually need.
I approach the bar and ask for what I ask for anywhere I go, "the biggest Diet Coke you've got." With smile.
The forlorn waif behind the bar does not smile back. She looks completely crestfallen and tells me, "it's pretty small." She then hands me a munchkin sized glass bottle of diet coke with a small glass cup and three pieces of ice. I thank her and go to sit on a velvet cushioned window seat. I set the glass and ice aside and have my shot of diet coke. Put the bottle directly into my backpack. Maggie will be appropriately horrified by the size of this bottle.
From my sateen seat I commence meeting all of Sam's friends all at once. This is sort of his "going away" party, even though not really because he's only going to be in Connecticut for three months.
Turns out Maseph Shopa is the man who wrote the music for "Saved." Don't know what that is. He is also currently working on a show about porn which requires him to diligently fly out to San Diego four or five times a week to watch pornos being made. He watches things like, a woman having sex on a couch and then inbetween takes getting a phone call telling her she has lost custody of her children. Resume sex. X.
Then next in the "Get To Know Audra Seat" on the couch is an older gentleman with whom I discuss being shy at parties. He tells me he is shy too but has just made himself mostly get over it. I told him I agree with that, and for all my time here I just remind myself, "this enormous room full of people you have never seen before has no idea that you are shy and sit in the corner eating cake barefoot at parties." So I smile and strike up conversations. I think they have yet to find me out. This man's name is Bruce and he is, according to Maseph, the most brilliant orchestrator in New York. I'll believe him.
Then a VERY HANDSOME man comes and sits next to me. I sort of recognize him, and so I figure that will be a good way to meet him. So I say, "you are the man naked with the cats." I am right. This is a long story. This man is very hairy. But has a beautiful face. He is in Sam's dance/theatre/dramatic flailing company Witness Relocation. I discover he is also the man I have seen a clip of tossing a woman around on a yoga mat to a recording of the Moses/Nefritiri scene from "The Ten Commandments."
The woman from the yoga mat is there as well. She turned thirty last weekend and threw a bevy of parties for herself. Parties titled, "Turning Thirty Sucks! Come Wipe Up My Tears."
Also a boy named Juan who Sam went to college with. Juan looks like he is on a ten from dance rehearsal for "Anchors Aweigh." NO ONE should wear shorts that small and white and then put their leg up on a bench like they have just founded the New World when one's legs are that burly and hairy. NO ONE. Looked like a walrus popping out of a condom. Maseph and I snicker about this. We have stationed ourselves in the corner as we have realized that neither one of us know anyone there except Sam and are doing our level best to meet people and then inform the other.
A scruffy looking man wearing a long scarf and winter hat comes in. Stands still, extends his arm, points at Masesph and says, "asshole." I correctly guess that they are acquainted. This man turns out to be Dan, who runs Witness Relocation and has a storage unit where Sam is storing his Buddha, his Virgin and his seal.
Ali comes in, who is Sam's friend who SINGS and is wheelchair bound due to a traffic accident when she was two that appeared to have left her scratchless until that night in bed she suffered a spinal seizure and was paralyzed from the ribs down. She is beautiful and is wearing my pink high-top Reeboks. I say, "Ali. I have your shoes." She stares for about twenty seconds. Then laughs. She has thought I meant I have stolen a pair of her shoes. Am always curious about how people with that sort of paralysis deal with things. Like, do they lift their own legs up to get out of their chair/into a car? How heavy do they feel? Sam says she is very agile and will crawl with her arms up the stairs to go onstage when necessary. Many people throughout the evening are seen kneeling before her very reverently. Also there are Jo and Anistasia, who are both very thin, and currently lesbians. Anistasia is pronounced "Ahhhhhhhhnistahhhhhhhhhhhhsiahhhhhhhh."
But MOST IMPORTANTLY- Many of you may not have seen the 80's miniseries "North & South." Well, thanks to a friend of mine, that miniseries and "The Temptations" on VH1 were what I did from tenth to twelfth grade. And there is an outstanding character in "North & South" of whom both Joseph and I are fond. And her daughter was there. Is a friend of Sam's. And I......spoke to her. I did not bring this up, the fact that I would like to meet her mother. If you have seen that miniseries, the character is Ashton.
So Joseph breezed in pretty late in the proceedings- he had been seeing "The Family Goes To Hell While Alice Ripley Makes Throat Sausage" with Ali T. Chase went to see "Our Town" I think. They got here yesterday at about 1:45 and have seen four shows. I have forgotten that there are shows here. Really just want to see "In the Heights" again.

Tomorrow have a lunch date at Artichoke. So excited. Would like to-oh just everything- with that pizza sauce.