White Courtesy Telephone:

Today Ryan and Amber and I went to Coney Island and were in a freak show. Not at a freak show; in a freak show. We stood on a board of rusty nails on the chest of a man with the entire solar system tattooed on his face. All three of us. At the same time. When we finally left, he stopped the show to tell us to take it easy. This man is my new personal hero.

Tonight we saw Jets to Brazil at the Bowery. It was air conditioned and unsmoky and wholly enjoyable.

Tomorrow is movies and museums, and then drinks with the dashing Joshua Newman, wherein I will prove to him in under 15 minutes that I’m really not especially charming, funny or attractive.

In other, unrelated news, last night on the subway I made a brief list of Things I Am Really Into:

• monorails
• temporary tattoos
• lemon-lime Gatorade
• bloopers
• references to the Yakuza
• your brother

It is now after 4 am and I’m going to take a cold shower and fall asleep. Ryan passed out hours ago after getting really drunk and inexplicably bellowing either “Guts!” or “Weak!” at passersby. Ryan is what I like to call A Good Time.