The Writer XXI

Gerry and Angela left this morning but I don't fly out until tomorrow.  I woke early, grabbed a coffee in the shop on my way out the door and made my way to Central Park.  I have a a lunch appointment in Astoria with a photographer we are trying to get to be a part of the magazine and then I have dinner plans with a firefighter from Jersey...I'm hoping a masturbating fireman is something you only experience once in a lifetime.

Central Park West just might be my favourite street on the planet.  I crossed the street and stepped into the park.  It is so humid out my t-shirt is sticking to me already and I have no idea how these people run like they do without passing out.  I already know I will not be able to train for my marathon here and realize if it was any sooner in the year I would likely be a casualty of dropping out or just dropping on the side of the road.  I made my way to Strawberry Fields and listened to a haunting version of 'Imagine' while I walked around the memorial and made a mental note to bring Dan.  The best part is getting lost in the park and trying my hardest not to find my way out.