a group of us headed out to williamsburg last night to go to a friend's art show.
stacks of books. old and new. big and small. forming giant cubes. some cubes were bound together with bolts to create hollow centers in the cubes. and there was one cube that was a perfectly solid stack of books from floor to ceiling. like a giant version of jenga. but with books. a few of us began to contemplate books within the stack that might be a good choice for jenga-ing and which may create a hole of vulnerability and cause the entire stack to crumble.
after such contemplations, we began to search for food. none of us are terribly familiar with this strange place called "brooklyn." after meandering about, we wound up in a tasty and relatively charming mexican restaurant. we were seated on the tented and space-heated outdoor patio. ok. we're tough. fine. and then. sigh. and then. we started to notice the rats frolicking in the distance. and by "in the distance," i mean on the other side of the clear plastic that was an attempt to shield us from the elements. and apparently by "the elements" this is meant to include rats.
after our meal, we proceeded to the subway because well what else were we supposed to do here? we're feeling like we're not at all hipsters. because we hear that's what williamsburg is full of. and well we're not it. and we're also heading to manhattan because we're ready to go home. and we're realizing that everyone else at the subway platform is there because they're heading to the city to go out.
and on this subway platform there's a slightly heavy set middle-aged black man playing his own original arrangement of Jimmy Buffet's "Margaritaville." who knew that it could receive such a response? he had the entire bedford ave L platform singing and bopping around. particularly one enthusiast who was twirling in the midst of the crowd looking as if she herself had been searchin for her lost shaker of salt.
