All Dressed Up With Nowhere To Go

Many people enjoy certain stories that I tell from this space from time to time (a few of which have mysteriously disappeared from this wonderful site), and thus believe that my time spent in New York is one of constant adventure. And yes, while it is true that I may have once shoved Ethan Hawke out of my way, or rapped at a show in Queens, or partied naked with a bunch of other naked people, or answered phones for Jimmy Carter's Secretary of Defense (and yes, these events all really did happen), allow me to show you the other side, the one that rarely appears in Essays from 116th Street.
It is a dreary, rainy, ugly Saturday here in NYC, and I have no cable. There was an outage on 116th and Lenox Avenue, the result being that I have had no way to watch television since 6:00 yesterday, and they won't come service it until sometime on Tuesday, between 8 AM and 12 PM. My apartment is quiet as hell, mainly due to the fact that Joe is galivanting around Europe at the moment, hopefully with some frauleins that look like St. Pauli Girl. Perhaps I might enjoy the company of The Girl By 23rd Street, except that she is about to be knee-deep in law-school finals and is studying her cute little behind off; this means that my visitation hours with her are restricted to something like two hours per week, and my phone privileges are about one hour every two days. This is sucky.
Well, Johnny RZA called me the other day, he said he wants to hang out... oh, look who's calling me right now! "What's that, John? You can't make it? Too rainy? Whatever..." So much for that, I should have known he was gonna bail at the first drop of rain. Well, Tim said something about hanging out, let me see what he's up to... Nope, he's got plans with a chica... How about the other Zack? He was on TV today... Nope, he's got plans too...
I guess I could make dinner...
(Isn't this so exciting?)