Every thing in my body is saying nope today.

Hormones. Strange dreams. Not enough sleep. A wind advisory (I have sensory issues with wind). Someone is jack hammering outside. A general feeling of unease.

But I have to go to the city because my dentist says he has to see me every month and the only way my cleanings are free is if I call in the morning and show up once a month.

So I’m going. One foot in front of the other.

What I really need is a cuddle. Last time I had one of those was 2021.

——-

Dentist done. Now taking the M2 down the east side of Central Park and I’m here to tell you that the trees are gorgeous.

Cherry blossoms everywhere.

——

Rudy’s for a Rudy’s Red and a hot dog ($6 with a $2 tip).

It’s noisy. Everyone’s yelling over the psychedelic jam band playing on the speakers. The Yankees are down one to the Orioles in the bottom of the fourth. And I got chips, guacamole, and queso from Chipotle to accompany the Rudy’s feast.

I got three hours to kill before meeting Alfie at Webster Hall.

So even if it is a nope kind of day, I ended up on top.

——

I sold my engagement/wedding ring and a few other baubles today in the Diamond District.

I forgot that I know how to haggle with jewelers. Comes from years and years of going to the Tucson gem show.

Sure they weigh your jewelry and they tap a calculator. But then you figure out where they’re from, say a few phrases in their language and suddenly the price goes up. I went back and forth between an Armenian dealer and a Puerto Rican until I got the price I wanted.

I’m not meant to be a nine to fiver grey flannel suit nudnik. I’m meant to be an arms dealer in Northern Africa. The skills I got aren’t the kind of things you find on LinkedIn.

——

I tell the lady next to me at Rudy’s that the flowers at Central Park are beautiful.

She’s maybe in her 50’s. White.

She shows me photos of all the flowers she’s been admiring. And then she tells me how she was an embed journalist in Central America in the 80’s when I mention Democracy Now.

She wasn’t just there in the room with Noriega. She was in Jerusalem.

And she was a DJ at the Tunnel and Sound Factory. She was part of the house scene before Party Girl came out. She’s still a DJ. She knew Angel Melendez, the club kid drug dealer that Michael Alig murdered in cold blood, which led to the end of Peter Gatien’s club empire.

I bought her a round and got story after story about NYC in the 90’s. The 90’s I still dream of.

We talked about politics and journalism and white flight and music and machismo and housing lotteries.

And she’s been to Nogales a few times.

This is why you go out on a day when your body tells you nope.