Just a quick HELLO friends:

For the past 5 days, I've been running amok in the Grey Ghost, Great Gotham, the Concrete Jungle, the city Greta Garbo famously called "the only place I can be alone", the Land of 1000 Bagels, the Home of the Triangle Pizza Slice: yes, I am home in NYC.  I was weened as a puppy here and have fond memories of peeing on fire hydrants like a cartoon dog and playing with the local Dalmation at the fire station I used to live next to.  I'd kick it in Tompkins Sq Dog Park, waiting for Carly to finish work, sleeping under Howie's feet while he plowed thru the entire Harry Potter Series.  Ah, to be home.  But as Thomas Wolfe mused in these hallowed streets "you can't go home again" and I am learning this more and more as I tack on the dog years so I'll gladly take what I can get.

For those keeping score, Wolfe's last two major novels (published posthumously), The Web and the Rock (1939) and You Can't Go Home Again (1940), followed the events of his life in New York and Brooklyn, his wandering travels through Europe, his success as a novelist, and his final sad revelation of "you can't go home again." Thomas Wolfe died in the prime of his life of tubercular meningitis on September 15, 1938, 18 days short of his 38th birthday.  Bummer.  Also, please note hero's like these are reasons why I constantly growl to the touch so please do not take offense; simply read Wolfe and revel in his mix of the sublime and mildly depressed; a feeling I carry most days.

Be that as it may, I suddenly feel the need to lay down again and/or visit the facilities. As this coffee wears off, I am swiftly reminded that I am engaged in hand to hand combat with a hangover so fierce, I need all 4 paws to cover my eyes and ears.  Last night was a tremendous wedding, today might be my early funeral.  If it is, remember this blog fondly.  

As Ever,

Otis