On a New York visit.

I'm giving up any illusions that I'm in any condition to create any kind of cohesive blog post today.  Instead, I'm going to make a couple of quick lessons I'm learning from my brief sojourn to Brooklyn.

1.  I cannot drink as much as I used to be able to.  This isn't much of a surprise; one's tolerance is bound to degenerate if it's not carefully maintained through sustained abuse.  This might not be a bad thing, really; I can get away spending $60 at a bar instead of $200.  But my pride.  Oh, my pride.

2.  Speaking of pride, hangovers fucking suck as you get older.  Maybe I've got rose-colored glasses on, but I remember blithely rolling out of bed with nothing more than a groan and a glass of juice, ready to attack the day after a long night of drinking.

3.  I need about two weeks to see all the people I want to see and eat at all the places I want to eat.  That's just the way it is.  There's too many of you assholes and too many places on my short list.

Now if you need me, I'll be very slowly getting ready to meet an old friend for noodles.  And then possibly grabbing a meatball sandwich on the backswing because hey.  It's National Meatball Day, and who am I to argue?