Geez Louise!

This week has been a breath of fresh, frenzied air. Just how I likes it.

In the dead of winter, in the midst of hibernation you gotta stretch out a bit, shake up some shit. Then you can slip back into napping 'til the spring. Even grizzlies gotta get up to pee every now and then. Since a bombastic New Year's I've simmered down. Having lost the buttons to my coat, my favorite necklace, and the recollection of most of my weekend I decided to take it easy on both my wallet and my liver.

Late January lends itself to comfy patterns of warm dinners and dimly lit nights curled up with a book, dog, and/or boy. In fact it's down right natural and pleasant. I've deemed the weeks between January 2nd to mid-February "Domestic Cuddle Season". No snowmen or candy-colored bunnies or buttery, plump, winged baby archers to signify this season. Just a pie on a pillow. 'Cause all you should want to do is sleep and eat baked goods. Its fun and sweet to blow through 2 seasons of your favorite cancelled tv show on dvd with a lazy hound draped across your lap and a mohawked head resting on your shoulder, but after 4 weeks of it, I personally start to feel like a mama-bear. And mama-bears are terrifying. Even when its you.

Alas, we boys and girls of modernity are not bears. Our Domestic Cuddle Season is a short one. For some, impossible... especially for us here in speedy, streamlined New York City. For the past few days I've been exercising my aliveness. Putting faith and secrets in new friends, discovering new neighborhoods, guzzling new beers, and dragging best buddies across state lines with the promise of parties. Follow me, enfants, I will be your Mohammed of dancing. We will find our Mecca of debauchery. In a quick 180 I've been racing around lower Manhattan and north Brooklyn with a fist of dollars to trade for lager and an adventurous best friend in arm. We hunt for bingo and quizzo, happy hour and bummed cigarettes. And even if we're in bed by midnight, which is typically the case, we're still beating the DCS.

And even though its the warm and soft season I myself created to celebrate cold, wintry indoor entrapment, I find the need to overcome it. So sue me.