post frozen yogurt, new from the favorite deli up the block, you stumble upon the eurotrash hangout on Mulberry. George the greek, the french owner, and your neighbor who hails from Montreal all sit outside sipping vodka and hacking ciggies with you. Suddenly appears the town crazy, Willy the Asian. Short, porky, and with glasses as thick as thieves, he proceeds to sit down. And an hour later, he's still there playing itsy bitsy spider up your arm. An hour after that he's chasing after you, shoving through crowds of upper east siders, screaming Ellie!!! Ellie!!, the name he has chosen for your puppy.
Waiting for your dealer has never been so eventful, and terrifying.
heres my lingering question (and not "will you love me?" from Willy): when you are solely in a depressed state, ready at any moment to throw a full-fledge pity party for yourself, why do socially promising occurrences jump off the sidewalk and toss themselves into your life, forcing you to instantly decide whether or not to continue on in your self pity? it is a decision who's immediate consequences bring about a self judgement in a way that should be reserved for times only when you feel satisfied with the current status of your life.
and contemplating whether or not to venture out into tourist land should deem no ones life satisfactory. only average.
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