hello from cabana town

this will be rushed cause i’m in transition and cannot concentrate for more than 3 minutes, but i’ve just so much to say:
hola from la cabana caliente, or rather, the place in hell’s kitchen where connie “mfing” wohn and i hang our hats for temporary. the hat is a kangol. we are inventing slang (“bounce” has become “be-younc’e,” gigante has become “gigounc’e”–all variations on “beyonce’d” aka “crazy in love” as in ” i saw ari from entourage in soho yesterday and i was straight beyonce’d!”). we are making moves. we are generally tearing up midtown and stretching on the green.
THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN JOGGING IN CENTRAL PARK VS. JOGGING IN PROSPECT PARK: more celebrity jogger sightings. well, at least i think so.. when you’re running past one another in opposite directions, it’s tough to discern if the dude with the hot pink painters’ cap and khaki running shorts is in FACT kevin bacon, or is merely kevin bacon IN THEORY. There are many IN THEORY celebrities in Central Park. In prospect park, the only celebrity i have a mild chance of running into is kris ex. Also, I miss my jogging friends from prospect park–the guy who jogs in a dashiki top in 990 degree humidity and yet laps me like seven times, each time his casual hellos breath intact; the other dude who yells at me to keep pushing, which i reluctantly appreciate; the two preteen kids who rollerblade holding hands almost every day at 2 pm and spit water on each other. I miss these people, and I am glad i do not live in manhattan permanently. brooklyn, i adore you.
marisa says jogging is a bourgie sport, even though my argument = it does not actually require any money for equipment. i am of the opinion that marisa is associating jogging with the bret easton ellis ’80s, and that because it is basically free it should be revitalized/RE-ENVISIONED as a populist exercise. do you agree?
THINGS WE DID/PEOPLE WE MET
* ruvan‘s photoshow plus the Nigerian hip-hop show–where i got to meet Oke‘s mom, a crazy amazing woman who used to work for evil world money-lenders –THEE evil world money-lenders — and quit to move back to nigeria and become a director of national finance/fighter of corruption. woman is fierce.
* designer dude who is silkscreening old guerilla faction / terrorist logos on his new shit–the SLA, the baader-meinhof, no weather underground cause “their logo sucked”–he was sensitive to its history and pertinence, could throw down on patriot act minutiae, but i am hardcore bumming on stamping that shit on haute couture for mucho dollares without context.
* rock & roll camp for girls written up by a woman who is simultaneously one of my favorite people and writers, lady MIZ Laura Sinagra.
*in the most amazing twist–connie and i, in the cab ride home at 5 am, we start talking to our cab driver, who tells us he is only in the states for awhile while he settles a lawsuit. that he’s actually been living in china, a censored writer whose books deal with the anthropological and social origins of class struggle. he tells us if we go to this certain post office on the upper east side, ask for the peruvian lady named sylvia, she will give us a copy of his book. the censored one. then he’s like, “i’ll turn off the meter if you let me stop at the gas station and get some coffee.” so we’re totally fascinated by the guy–he sounds crazy in blogform, but we’re savvy girls and not sketched out–his story is actually convincing…. so whatever, we go with him to the BP, meet the lady who works there–maricella–who our cab man knows well, then end up hanging out with him for like an hour, fare free, while he tells about living in china and teaching english and meeting his wife. despite the fact that he wouldn’t answer certain of my questions–you know, “are you talking about mysticism, or are you offering hard anthropological evidence?”–my bullshit-o-meter was at a low rating. he believed himself, and it counted. mostly, i was just pumped we were kicking it with our cab driver at the gas station at like 5:30 in the morning: felt special and wild.
I am going to the post office on the upper east side to see if sylvia and the book exist, and will let you know how the story ends.