Wednesday, April 20, 2011

This is Why I Don't Hang Out in the East Village Much . . .

after sundown. I don't want to leave, once I get there. And I had a fine time with the live music at this really nice venue. I'm feeling my age these days. The hipsters all looked so painfully young. But eventually I loosened up. And that meant it was time to go home.

But still, I was well reminded of an anchor of my life. Hell I likely said it to the pretty blonde lady I was chatting with. Remember well these days, I said. Something like it. Granted, at my age, I was as deep in memory as the moment, but so many of the pleasant nights of my life were in cramped venues, brimming with youth and life, and song, and the sense that we are all beautiful, and immortal, and the world is ours for the taking. Sigh. Ok. I'll stop there. I'm sure some pop music poet has said it better than I can right now. In fact there's a particular Billy Joel song I have in mind right now. "I've Loved These Days."


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