Books, Bars, and Bums

On Wednesday afternoon, I decided to do something that I'd been putting off which could potentially save me a good deal of money. I paid my library fines. The New York Public Library is pretty great. They are fairly comprehensive and they are often nice enough to give you the books you want if you ask for them. They do not however suffer tardiness lightly.

I'm the kind of jerk that will check out a book indefinitely. When I was an adjunct professor I discovered, much to my delight, that I didn't have to pay library fines because I was faculty. This led to books being arranged in stacks around my apartment for years. Each tower was symbolic of literary ambition that went largely unfulfilled.

But I don't have carte blanche at the New York library and in order to check out any new books, I had to pay off not all of my fines but enough. I paid $10, wandered the stacks and fetched Jack Gilbert's book "Refusing Heaven" and Anne Sexton's collected work. Sexton is great and we all need to read more Gilbert.

Thursday was a tough day. I keep getting these late night phone calls that I keep taking. They leave me tired and losing sleep. I didn't have a lunch to pack, so after packing breakfast (PB&Honey) I hit the tamale stand. At my place of business we often gather for an afternoon tea time. It's probably the coolest thing we do. My co-worker also recently returned from Japan with brand new tea. I asked if he also had fetched some snacks to serve at tea. To my chagrin he served some rock hard miso biscuits that tasted like graham crackers and, I don't know, hazel nut. I didn't finish mine, but it was nice of him to bring them.

Then I went out last night to party at Automatic Slim''s. Before arriving I had to grab something to eat, I ducked into a deli for a ham sandwich and chips. I only ate about half and then danced and danced. Unfortunately I was taking a break outside when a man accosted me for money. The typical bum story. A statement of honesty, a complement, an introduction, description of a terminal disease, a request for an outrageous amount, all the while being both mildly pathetic and vaguely threating. He got $5 out of me. What can I say? He had the hustle.

After Automatic Slim's, which had to be fled on account of the massive amounts of young, stout professionals that flooded the place, my party absconded to White Horse Tavern. This was sort of like leaving sucky for suckier. Before we set out I caught sight of character actor Fisher Stevens and I had to stifle the desire to say "Dude, I loved you in My Science Project."

But that's neither here nor there. The point is, don't go to The White Horse tavern. I guess it's bad enough that they celebrate the fact that they are the bar that helped Dylan Thomas poison himself, but they also have just lousy service. They poured a shitty Maker's Mark, which I don't know how you mess that up, but they did it tasted like it had gin in it. The fat bastard behind the bar refused to fix it. And when the kitchen was closed and my friends went to get something to eat, they were bounced from the bar for eating in it. Basically it's a low rent hive of idiocy that I will never return to.

The night drug on and the subways frustrated so I resorted to cabbing it home. Going out is bad. No more of this.

Two Day Breakdown

Starting Balance: -$97.75

In: $20

Wednesday
Banana: $.25
Library Fines: $10

Thursday
Tamales: $2
Bananas: $.50
Ham Sandwich: $5
Bum: $5
Cab: $15

Balance: -$115.50