Eureka!!!
this fancy-ass hotel and their high-powered business centre - The Pierre on 5th Avenue - has blogging capabilities.
NYC for high times and no misdemeanors and about to engage in another full evening of debauchery.
Ended the evening, as is custom, at Clay with Edward the owner excusing all the hired help and after the last customer leaves hopping behind the bar to pour forth his hospitality.
Last night had to suffer through what seemend an eternal Dylan Fest and Edward playing air organ and/or guitar along whilst singing. This transpiring as Jason asks my special journalistic and humanistic impressions of B.D. and me giving my uncensored opinion(s). His farty behaviour regarding hating photogs and even the mere thought that someone like me could or would capture his craggly likeness on stage. ie: what I call ARSS (aging rock star syndrome).
Or, as I put forth to Jason, perhaps a life of people poring over one's garbage makes one rather paranoid.
Onwards.
Finally got Edward to move on to PJ Harvey, more appropriate to the night.
Today happy wending down the streets here, now onwards to aforementioned.
Walked again through thee park and failed to intersect with Strawberry Fields, not to be.
But the loving spirit of John Lennon hanging over my life.
Tomorrow is 2003's eve and there is the driving back to the Middling City to join others in a banquet and party points beyond.
NYC love, for now.