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11.27.4

complaint

Fuck, it's cold. Up on top I have my new 600 fill down jacket, thank god, but I'm still enough of a slob that I feel society should be grateful that I even bother to put on one pair of pants in the morning, plus long underwear is a pain to get washed, so I just have the single thin layer of jeans cotton between my legs and the elements, and I feel the cold attacking my knee joints like an evil child playing at dissecting a frog. I'm sure I'll have arthritis by thirty. When I get home from a walk and peel off my jacket the top half of me feels fine, but the bottom half feels like a beverage cooler. I love it though, it's "brisk." When outside in this weather, it's impossible to feel like a lazy person, and the minute you get home it's so warm that you fall asleep.

It's possible the wedding is making me a little crazy. Compounding the effects that New York was already having, that is, and not to confess that I'm a little nutty to begin with and my weak spot mentally is money. Manhattan is full of wedding factories that will happily do everything for you and take all the worry out of your head for a flat fee of, oh I don't know, some incredibly high secret number of dollars per head that they don't want to quote to you over the phone. And these people, they are always on the phone with someone else, and you end up playing cell phone tag all the time and never actually talking to them, and maybe they will turn out to not have been people at all but just a bank of game theory simulators hooked up to modems.

Actually, I started out my search in Brooklyn because, c'mon, everyone knows Brooklyn is better than Manhattan - but the wedding factories seem to be just the same, ornate like the Palm House or ridiculously priced like the Brooklyn Museum ("of Art") - and then you get into the frame of mind where you seriously consider booking a "bargain" like the Tennis House in Prospect Park: no walls, no doors, no windows, no bathrooms area, no parking, no kitchens, half of the building is administrative offices, but at least it only costs $1500 for a four-hour rental. And it's like, no! This kind of thinking will lead me straight into the dens of Chinatown! It's time to resign myself to coughing up the dough! and on goes the vicious cycle. If only we could find a really, really fine quality delicious restaurant to hold the reception in. Can you recommend one? Please advise.

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