Meandered over to the nearest French joint for turbo-powered coffee and an American Splendour (as Kennedy calls them) this AM, for another early-AM gander at the asphalt triangle that is Lt. Petrosino Square and to send me on my reading way.
Had a strong visual dream this AM that awoke me at 6.
My hand was holding a very simple and monochromatic bouquet which I kept waving slowly in front of me.
Perhaps inspired by my walk back to SoHo last evening when I stopped to buy lilies and lisianthus and these flowers hovered near my head all night, filling my head and mind with pollen molecules and perfumed flavour and scent crystals. Not to get too technical for You.
In mere moments it will be time to meander again slightly north, near the French joint of turbo-powered coffee, for the 6 up 3 to school, where I'll meet yet another new instructor who I'll be regaling with my hot plans of most ambitious and perhaps eccentric variety, for the summer's public art project. It involves the demi-heritage of Yours Truly (the Italian portion), badass attitude, making a place really lusher and the celebration of the Underdog.
All dogs is good dogs but the underdog gets my hardest bite.

Love bites.

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this just in:
No Lollapalooza. Poor Perry. But really, Morrissey as a headliner in this day and age. Meat is murder... to concert tours. Too bad for Sonic Yoof and PJ Harvey, however, no chance of corrupting younger minds with their audio this time around.