I’m not making plans to attend the World Baseball Classic. I’m not
thinking about pitchers and catchers reporting for Spring Training. It’s winter. My mind is everywhere, and baseball is but a minuscule portion of it.
Along these lines, I have two photos to share from this past Friday. The first was taken at my writing group (which, on this blustery night, took place in a friend’s 40th floor penthouse overlooking Times Square) during the first hour when everyone was actually writing. In case you can’t recognize me without a baseball cap, I’m the one wearing the “YSOP” shirt. (I love trying to think of things that those letters could stand for. “Youth Service Opportunity Program” is so boring. Any ideas? I’d share a few, but they’re all R-rated.) And BTW, the guy lying down and wearing the green shirt is Leon Feingold.
After the writing I headed downtown and met up with my girlfriend and a few other friends at place called Don Hill’s, which I can only describe as a punk-indie/club-bar. I didn’t arrive until about 2am, and shortly thereafter this is what was happening:
That’s about it.