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I am currently in my thirteenth minute of half an hour of free internet use at the Upper West Side branch of the New York Public Library. This marks my first trip to the NYPL, and about my tenth trip to a library of any sort in the New York metropolitan area, not including my brief stint "working" at the ol' college library, but including that time after graduation when FAB and I drunkenly wandered into said library at 3 a.m. on a Friday night marvelling at the overwhelming preponderance of Asians there (who were studying, not drunk.) Anyway, New York is treating me well since I've been back, with a nice futon to sleep on (thanks, A,) enough quarters that were being saved for laundry to purchase coffee and eggs, and a free trial gym membership from the nice folks at Equinox in order to begin making ammends for my ravenous consumption of South American meats. Not all is well, however, as an attempt to go to a party I used to frequent with apparently not "hardcore" enough regularity was met with an "I recognize your [not even remotely cool enough] face, but I won't be able to accomodate you tonight. [Perhaps next time you should try using more product in your hair.]" Damn, time is up and an old man in a trench coat is looking at me angrily.