Waiting to Get There. Usually on the A/C/E in Chelsea, New York City.

It all started when Andrew got the ball rolling last night and afterwards I couldn't get it off my mind. I spent most of this morning fantasizing about calling up my Intellectual Property attorney and telling him that I want to get a business process patent for "Math." Not old arithmetic, mind you, but New Math. First thing my IP lawyer will ask if we created "Math" less then a year ago because you have to file within a year. Absolutely, yes. It's fresh. It's shiny as a polished multiplication table. As far as you're concerned anyway. Then the lawyer will ask if every time we've used our "Math" we've noted that it is our proprietary methodology. Oh certainly. Math.™ ©2008. For sure, every time any kind of numeral sniffs around any other numeral for any purpose whatsoever. Ok, the lawyer will say, can you describe the functionality that your Math offers. Snort. Of course. Anyone can see it's so obviously revolutionary. Then I wi...

The real problem is the general public’s inability to deal with the hazards of flea market culture. That’s why most go retail. But for me, there’s nothing like the thrill of wondering if must-have rubberized binoculars are covered in some kind of dramatic and dangerous fungus. My fleamanship circumference extends from West 17th north to 25th. Sometimes I take the free shuttle to the Hell’s Kitchen market but Deborah the ex-glass blower has a booth on the corner up there and man can she talk a blue streak. Plus she tries to sell me repurposed safari gear that’s like the household goods equivalent of a comb-over. Personally, I think the famous Antique Garage on West 25th is overpriced. But it’s a good shortcut to the Goodwill flagship store if you go in on the south side. Then you can stroll over to the open-air market down the street. You can wheel your Smarte Carte right over everybody’s feet on 6th Avenue. It doesn’t bother the tourists because they all wear adequately padded leather ...

I had this enormous tattoo. A full back plate depicting some swarthy military hero in a pith helmet and a colonial jacket. A banner fluttered out under him that read "Viva la Columbia." Shit. I never saw the "Viva la Columbia" in the tattoo book when I picked it out because there was a smear on the page. I don't have any family from Columbia. I never lived in Columbia. It would be weird to get a tattoo in commemoration of a country because they export a decent coffee bean. I could not wrap my head around how to justify this tattoo. Thank God it was only a dream.

We concluded The Sofa Tour yesterday. The journey had stretched on endlessly, but we persevered. We knew the meaning of privations and of hardships. We looked at every sleeper sofa in this entire city. The very last one we saw. Was the One. Participating in the victory celebration was Kirstie Alley. No, she really didn’t participate in the victory celebration. She just happened to be in the store at the exact same time that the Farewell-to-the-Sofa-Tour credit card transaction went down. Truthfully, she couldn’t have seemed less interested in our triumph. Nonetheless, we did view the appearance of Rebecca Howe mid-Sofa purchase as an auspicious sighting. The next leg of our journey, The Sofa In Situ, bodes well. View Larger Map

21 days. 10 guys on a team. summer. Wow. That's a lot of laundry. They probably have a washing machine on the team bus.

When someone has wrapped their entire body around a pole in a crowded subway train and someone else coughs to indicate their annoyance. How loathsome. If a person is sufficiently clueless to body block all the other strap hangers, then hacking up a lung nearby will only communicate you have a tenuous grasp on the purpose of language. When you share a moment with someone who exists five seconds in the future, she will always finish your sentences for you. When she realizes she’s skittered too far ahead and can’t see you behind her, she frantically gropes backwards through the darkness of time to find you. She jitters wildly between her moment and yours. It is exhausting to be around her. When you share a moment with someone who lives inside her own mind, for her, the moment is like a dream. When you dream, no matter what anyone does, it is done for you or against you. When you dream, your perception becomes a reality in which you are the only driving force. When you dream, your reaction...

In a surprise move, local housecat, Alexander T. Nash, forewent the opportunity to spend the long weekend in the city. He cited a need to curb the recent surge of lawless chipmunk activity on and about the left perimeter sidewalk area. Nash, 5, said, "Someone's got to do it [sweep the property of rodents.] These striped lawn monkeys are no petty foe to toy with." He further noted, "Besides, why would I want to be seen with a person who actually forgot to pack ANY clothing and walked around Chelsea for three days in a sweaty green Gygax-era dungeons and dragons T-shirt? So 'Lost' reject. I don't understand how it is possible not to realize you are hauling a TravelPro with nothing in it but a couple magazines and a pair of brown socks." Asked if his three days guerilla solo had produced results, Nash commented that he had tirelessly prowled around for a minimum of 2-2.5 hours daily. He did take a short break to watch the Macy's Independence Day fir...

1) Our waiter had on a rainbow colored T-Shirt with "I had a bowl of bitchy this morning" printed really big on the front. 2) He was also wearing a matching skirt. 3) He greeted Tom and me as follows: "Hello, ladies." Pad Thai in Chelsea, 8th Ave at 16th St.