The better half has a running joke all day about my gut which is growing along with the blog and she is calling it the cheese beer baby… or Greer…. a combination of Gruyere and beer… Ha ha ha…. but I do have a feeling that I know what made Orson Welles and Francis Ford Coppola and Marlon Brando get fat… the energy of creation wants lots of fuel, it would seem. Seeing the infinite reflection of things will make you eat and drink: for tomorrow, you may be dead…. and you certainly will be some day… enjoy the now layed before you like a spill of blue velvet ribbon on the orange Oriental carpet.
The Loki Lounge looks like a place where VanGogh might commit a crime, or chop off his ear and the confusing red unfolds like the petals of a rose and the only alternative sometimes seems the innocence of children. This little neighbor of British descent was out saying Cheerio to all passersby He was not using coloquial British slang, he was offering you a Cheerio from his sunny orange bowl… which I ate with joy.
This little neighbor has taken to fashion like a fish to water and ended up matching the better half perfectly today… not to mention the fading cherry blossoms.
Her mother was explaining that this clothes obsession is all her own and she is very particular… i had been thinking she was just the best dressed baby in town, but little did I know that she was doing it all on her own. Her parents are beautiful folk, but relatively causual in the accepted Park Slope Manner… not her! Things must match…. sort of like my better half… which begs the question, is fashion nature or nurture? Am I genetically a slob? It would certainly explain a thing or two.
Who can answer these puzzels? Instead, we went out to Blue Ribbon for an early breaklunchinner and ate steak and fish and I will need to get my clothes altered on this 55 mannequin… oy!
Then night came with its Cezanne sald bowl moon hanging empty in the gathering indigo blue twilight. It called for a Carvel banna split for the sweety and a Royal Tokaji wine for dessert. Not in an icecream mood yet, I had some American Gruyere style cheese out of Wisconsin, which was delicious, but strangely, the rind smelled like my dogs lips…. which isn’t very good at all…. but good cheese doesn’t usually smell so pleasant, unless you are foot fetishist, or something
