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bird poops on plum branch


Buster Benson

No advice column.

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day two of eighteen
bird poops on plum branch
Having "no drinks" at Paradou turned into screaming with fist in the air for more bellini.  Girlfriend, ex, and ex-wife in attendance, along with several other mathematical social formulas of awkwardness for others (which required white lies to encourage backup to attend), created one of my favorite brunches ever.  I love drama realized, tangible, resolvable.  So often the social dynamics we respond to are present only in our heads.  Only rarely are they realized in full operatic glory.  Luckily everyone was very compassionate and the only people really to comment on anything were two people at another table that pulled me aside, one of whom was the girlfriend of an artist that we're currently showing at McLeod.  By pure chance.  NYC is small.  Seattle is obviously small, but NYC is small too.  The universe itself is small.  But the two people were good comic social commentary over the proceedings.  Now we shower and sober up before round two: the wedding.

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i've only recently realized that 99% of the situations that i realize in my head have absolutely no bearing in the reality in which i exist.

speaking of percentages, brunch was 100% awesome.

Absolutely. Drama is just moving things that are in your head out of your head. Once they're out, they're free, like released baby seals in the wild.

Brunch was my favorite. More! I don't know who's going to the wedding and who's not, but let's make these next two weeks happen! I'm sorry I missed your dinner party. I'm trying to convince Camille to throw one soon. Are you the only NYCer ever to throw a dinner party?

Am I the only New Yorker to ever throw a dinner party? No, of course not!

Just the only one to throw one worth attending.

New York may be small, but I wouldn't want to clean it.

I think that "small world" feeling is one of the best there is...

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