See You in September
I’m leaving you in charge
The day has come. In approximately five hours my partner in life and art, AleXander, and I will be flying to California to get our gear, load the truck and drive to Reno. Over the weekend, we’ll turn off the electronic gizmos and head out into the Black Rock Desert in northern Nevada.
Yesterday we got out and about a bit in the city, had a slice of Joe’s pizza, and generally said goodbye to this summer of 2022.
It hasn’t been what you’d call a stellar summer. We only made it out to one ballgame at Coney Island — in fact, our only trek out there for the summer — and managed one beach day out to the Rockaways. But we did get to several of the free concerts at the Naumberg Bandshell.
I bought a second-hand bike and got out for three, count ’em, three rides in Central Park. Does this mean I’m ready to hit the playa on my trike?
Low odds.
We did have a number of slices of Joe’s pizza while sitting in Father Demo square, however. Always a good thing to be able to do. Fun fact: Joe’s never closed during the worst of the pandemic. Comforting.
We went down to gather the mail art that AleXander had loaned out to an exhibit in Soho over the summer. And to my astonishment, I saw yet another squished Spotted Lanternfly on the steps out of the Franklin Street subway. Those little suckers get around!
Until they don’t.
The robot at Jet Blue just popped us an email that our takeoff has been pushed…
