3:33 pm

Some love fight context
Mine fight the stars
I think of you and my brain freezes
I long for you as my body tries to scape
I love for you hoping it will be enough for both
I embrace our story as destiny without miracles
I continue seeking paradoxes that were long ago solved
I keep your intense wanting as a proof of your care for me
I ay inside not realizing the sounds won't get quieter as time goes by
Your skin dresses all I ever wanted
But fear stands in our way as bubbles distracting young eyes
When there are distance the floor shakes under me
When distance shortens everything stops, acknowledging your presence
All gets so tight that the I love you I keep for you gets stuck between our gaze
And in the rush to make all right, we lose the present, forcing our souls to look out in other directions
It wasn't my back you saw running away again
I was just giving you distance to savor my love

Such a pity, it is so tasteless now...

FAN

You have a fan you know?
You could have a fan and a fan to fan you
You only have a fan that fans you
And when the summer is over, you will have a fan that won't fan you

Unless your have a bad fan
You could have a fan that would turn off your bad fan when you're cold when the summer is over
A fan to applaud you when you do something great
A fan to blow your mind
To turn your breath up side down
A fan to laugh at your ways
To cool you down when you breakdown
Now you have a fan and a fan
And the fan that fans you right now is too boring
It does the same movement over and over again

You could have a fan to break your patterns

To mess up with your same manners

To follow your basic colors

A fan to warm you up

To put you on your knees

To play as it pleases

A fan to spin you around

To reject any bound

A fan to leave you behind

To be mean and kind

To be trouble and winy

A fan all over the place

Aff!

A FAN
FANtasy
FANta

FANciful
FANcy

FANdom

FANtom
FANatic

FAN
I am
I fan you!

COMBO 2 or TEARS MAKE EVERYTHING TASTE BETTER

1- Third Floor or Torta

No 3° andar eu fui toda errada. Eu te procurei. Eu quiz que você me
Quizesse torta...
Um beijo
Te
Amo
Nao
Ai
Ai
Ai
Te
Decorei
Te

A
O
Mo
I
Mean
Amo
I
Go
He
Hi
Ho
Pe
Ho
Pe
Ho
Pe
Hope
Ho
Pe

2- US

Yeah!
I was there
Nothing to say...
Waiting on a fucking dirty street for that little moment of poetry
Drunk empty..: us ...

WCT (Please)

Today when I saw my "first star" I closed my eyes

And I wished very hard that you would be closer again

It put a smile on my face

When I look up the star was moving!

It was an airplane

A tear dropped out of fear

The smile went away...

A week ago I saw a flower wrapped in a plastic bag

That seemed suffocating, kind of bad…

I wondered for a bit if the flower was a little sad...

Yesterday I ate a candy that tasted like sauna

My brain became hot and sweaty

I hoped it was not glaucoma

About 10 days ago I got a new skirt

It is short and certainly elegant

I bet it will make it easy to flirt

24 days have passed since I made a mistake

It was the smallest one

It was the one that I so wish I could dismake

Half-hour ago I drank soda out of a can

I imagined the burp before it came

I know I could fry it all on a pan

I don’t remember when I found a book on the street

I wrote a poem on its first page

I question if the book is now more complete

2 days ago I got so lost I disappeared

I took a ride and found a clue

I try now to glue it back and it’s goodly weird

This afternoon I wrote nonsense

I strongly tried to keep myself strong

And through empty sense make you a past tense

Late afternoon I made nonsense even bigger

I dada the getting rid of all together

I still hope the mess becomes colorful

Since that last kiss I saw flying in the air

I robbed stickers and stick them around

I still consider reading Baudelaire

Tomorrow have all my rhymes and good words

I put my entire wish between the lines

Hoping it can catch your eyes

Now I realize that the fear I mentioned before

Is that that airplane can lose my wish somewhere on it's way...

Ops, a lapse on the narrative and I am back to the beginning again

Today when I saw my first star…

I wish you here again.

some times some more times or An Attempt do Dare

And they keep asking me, the voices in my head: why do I like you?...

I keep answering: it's his voice, his voice is so strong and specific...

His voice is calm and explanatory, you know?

And even the "you know" I say is yours.

It is a copy of yours, cause I used to like the way you used to say "you know", you know?

See, I keep repeating it, as if it is bringing you closer.

But right after I say it, you're not there, and instead I get tears as a replacement of your voice.

And all is fine, you know?

It is just little lapses of time during my day when I feel my face wet by surprise.

It happens randomly, anywhere, especially where it shouldn't, you know?
And the voices keep going, asking: do you like him only for his voice?

Well, I must say, I think that's reason enough!

But, no...

There are other reasons, like the way you explain things.

Every little story becomes so magic coming from your eyes.

It is all so special, like a kid looking at a toy, thinking that if he doesn't catch it right away, he may never catch it.

Kids are so right all the time.

How can you know if you will ever have an opportunity again? Any opportunity...?

That's how you explain things, like someone who knows that not having another chance is so real and inevitable, sooner or later.

Arbitrarily, a voice escapes from a hidden place somewhere, placing a thought like: but remember that he had something you didn't like...

And that voice tries to find an example of what that was, unsuccessfully...

So another voice jumps in saying: see, that is typical and cliche, you have this naive passion and cannot reason properly. How can someone have no defect?

I ponder for a bit...

The only thing I come up with is: I had fun even with your defects.

They seemed to be there to highlight your qualities.
"What qualities are there to deserve so much attention, so much liking?"

At first, all I can think is your smile.

Your smile lives in your eyes and hands.

It get spread with the sounds you make...

There's also the way you walk and the way you care about the ones lucky enough to cross your way.

And I could keep going on but the freaking voices are restless:

"Ok, so you know that... Is there more? Aren't you only fantasizing about him? Are you not just creating something you wanted to be real?"

I keep saying no!

Sometimes maybe...

But I know that I don't like you for anything you never showed me.

All my liking for you comes from something I experienced.

The voices never stop!

They insist!

As if I don't deserve to like you.

As if trying to keep me from falling, not realizing I already fell.

And tired of screaming, noticing I resist, they breathless say: then please dare!

(Pause)

Dare!

(Pause)

They win.

They win seeing myself hiding behind words and phrases I don't dare to say. You know?

You Know?

I know you made me more than what I was before and I learnt the pleasure of enjoying opposites, of not having to judge to like a person... or just to like.
But you were like my poetry, sometimes the end comes before the beginning...

And coming before, I cannot end it even when it is already done...
You know?
Can I tell you something?

Your qualities only make the other's look like defects...

Sometimes

You know

As Promised

Finding ways to define what you show only kept me busy in vain...
Bla bla blas, and empty words again.

Poor rhyme is all that was made out of our superficial complicity...

There is no more whys to save that bizarre simplicity...

And poor rhyme is all I can create from our lame musicality...

We were a mere copy of a boring pop song;

Those ones that move teenager's plastic glossy brains at dawn.

We moved in a instantaneous rhythm combined together,

And as any momentary ballad, the boom of the hit was burnt too soon...

As promised, beautifully mysterious verses were composed...

Maybe not the sound I wished to be played;

For they stretched their spaces too far apart for me to keep up all the way...

And that is how it went:

The tune was too high,

The melody extremely unbalanced,

The words came out as wrong as a hurt heart,

And as fast as a lost bullet,

The energy went off,

No power to pulse,

It was too dark to keep singing...

yet, we were my best composition...

a dream of a nightmare

You are the beat of my new pop song

You are the ploc of the bubble of my bubble gum

You are the scratching of my itching

You are the tourist over my bridge

You are the hunger after I eat

You are the number under my dice

You are the little too soon closing of my subway door

You are those 5 more minutes I so desire when the alarm wakes me up

You are the maybes I ignored

You are the joy of my grammar's mistakes

You are the wave of my emotions's tail before great art

You are the sound I can not record

You are the questions I am always forgetting to ask

You are the doubts before I give in

You are the desires I never imagined to exist

You are that one more drink before I am gone too far

You are that so liked song ending when I turn the radio on

You are the first drag of my last cigarette

You are my thought between awaken and asleep

You are the relief of the hot weather when I jump in the water

You are the memory I can barely recall

You are the space between my poem's words

You are that lasting instant yet already passed by me

You are the enough for me to wish some more

You are my all most

And all most almost is

And almost never was or will ever be...

July 08/09, 2010.

The Stare of The Mole

In the curly manners of your eyes she allows herself to get lost in your trapping smile.
Laying with a soft look, she stares at your back, feeling comfortable and alone, while trying to decipher the poetry of your moles.

They stare back at her as she falls asleep ignorant to your verses.
Waking up is a constant event during empty nights.

She falls over and over as if her soul is constantly running away only to come back on the next second.

She guesses it leaves her to stare at her staring at your back staring at her.

They just stare, and, for now, that is what makes what they are available to the presence of everything.
It may be true that love may not fit the reality of this instant, but love is the essence of all that was ever made.

A chair only exists because love was there when someone created the first one.

The same with dreams, frogs and clouds.

Love is always staring at everything, just waiting to be noticed and used.

Love wants to be used, and that may be what moles try to say when they look at her so strongly making her fall in the middle of her sleep.

Falling when asleep doesn't hurt, it just makes her aware of what else is out there, staring back, wondering what's out here staring back...
And messing up the waters of such turbulent sea of potentialities, she rejoices, laughing at all that stares at them, hoping the same is happening at the other side of the invisible mirror reflecting opposites.
I wonder if they know I'm here, helpless in the middle of such sublime composition, hoping she will never take her eyes out of the moles and realize she was staring at his back...

Instant Poem

I want to write a line for you

A colorful line

I want to fill it with yummy sensations

A thankful line

A line to make you smile

I want to write a line for you

A colorful line

____________________

Enjoy it

Tempo de Lindo

E em horas que não te pertencem eu te faço presente.
Surrounded by yellow in an old platform, I feel the air touching my neck.

And smiling I pause for (Started may 23 at 1:16 pm. Continued June 1 at 2:53 pm) a frame, a still frame of compassion for what is out of my skin.

You.

(Continued June 2 at 6:56 pm)

I sit on a couch in a place that doesn't belong to me.

I put my legs up on a table and I let what crosses my eyes to guide what moves my fingers to play poems to the loyalty I keep to what I feel.

When I set my heart free, I found space for some clarity and now my fairy tale became real.

And it was by speaking out what i felt that it flew from me.

Thank you for listening.

Now, with all so quiet, there is lightness again.

I like what only silence can say.

It resets the contradictions I so much love.

It makes alright to go away just to arrive where we started.

I had a dream last night and I was half awake.

On that precise moment I was blessed with the understading of the continuity of everything.

Now I know that if I breath deep enough you will be so close I could suffocate...
I write this for you and I'm happy.

Every time you see me sad, do not worry...

I am just digging the hole deeper so I can fit all the glad drops life spreads around us.

It is also there where I can put the happiness we invent randomly on the corners of silly special moments.

(Continued June 5, 7:34 pm)

And just silly as it is, I keep digging and breathing deep, grabbing drops here and there...

Lindo!

Wind

And it is waiting that I find details that allow me to stand the sweet peculiarity of your instability.

Not knowing what it is to come is comforting and grotesque.

I wander through the fine borders that bring me to you, guessing the feeling that defines my contrasting appreciation for loneliness.

I starve myself of pleasures as kids depriving themselves of fun in order to get the higher prize of recognition.

I despise this act for keeping me away from breaths of love, in the middle of a random, reckless night.

But also as kids, I let myself forget of vows I make to the air, and in a second of impulse I jump into the thought of longing for you.

And almost drowning into the possibilities I make out, I laugh.

I disappear behind shades of concrete, and for a moment I become a wall that sees.

And it is there, on those moments, that I convert what can kill me into new eyes that bring life to the unseen.

If the wind had a color it would be different than the airs.

It would be a color with a smell of wisdom.

Who said the wind is colorless anyway?

To see the wind it is necessary to sooth the mind with closing eyes.

The wind always carries little shining dots and kind growing sensations. And as it blows harder and harder, it brings the clouds I created for you.

The sounds it makes are only a gift of salutation to the beauty that one subtle moment can exude.

Open the windows even if the strong air scares you, because it is just my guts screaming love to you...

Fly on Me!

If at least you could swallow the attitude that makes you so desirable and disgusting at the same time, I could make a line for you.

I'd put you there and you'd walk through it as a bird in a cage.

And I'd make you whistle for me, every time I felt lonely.

And you could wave your tale if you felt hungry.

I'd feed you with pieces of my skin, until I was all you.

And when you discharged what your body rejected of me, I'd grow as a tree under your cage.

I'd grow so strong it would break your home and you'd be free again.

You'd fly away looking for some more of me. And when tired you returned, you'd make your home on my branch.

There, after finding nothing but the smell of my presence, you'd find some little cute bird, and you'd make baby birds on her.

And you'd put your eggs on a nest laying on me. All the kids would admire that image of life and happiness when they passed by.

And I would always regret to have drawn you that line once. And I’d regret feeding you.

I'd be there contemplating the nasty nest living on me.

I'd be only in peace when the kids laughed with us with their eyes.

And you would be just a bird confused, with a little bit of me, always so close you could not see...

Niver!

Feliz aniversario pra mim!

Moleque

Quero inventar uma linguagem em que as palavras não tenham significado algum. Quero que elas não reflitam algo que você já carrega em si. Quero que elas te façam sentir o que elas são. Quero uma linguagem que não te dê medo de ler-la.

Que se foda você e que isso não te pese. Se o que sou te diminui e afasta, que longe você fique. Assim, sem mais nem menos. Numa linguagem simples e crua, ao som de um entardecer, com um olhar preenchido a secos galhos, com uma tensão na garganta, segurando o grito e a indignação, te coloco enquadrado na moldura eletrônica da contemporaneidade descartável e solúvel. Uma proteção entendível, uma solução rápida para resolver a ruptura abrupta, quase fria.

Naquela moldura, congelado, eu vejo o olhar que sempre te enganou no espelho. Um olhar que quando visto na superfície do vidro prateado, parece triste. O olhar te engana por conforto e medo. Quem consegue vê-lo melhor consegue escutar o grito, um grito de ânsia... Quem consegue olhar com cuidado, vê agarrada aos seus cílios, duas mãozinhas lutando contra a corrente de lágrimas, tentando trazer consigo o corpo do moleque risonho. Tá ali o que não foi permitido mas enterrado. Tá ali, atrás do disfarce confortante, o travesso eloqüente blá blá blá.

(começado dia 27, continuado dia 28 de Março)

O cansaço interrompeu as linhas. A saudade retomou a vontade de te dar algo que sempre foi seu. A saudade nos faz generosos e dando te sinto perto. Será que a saudade é mesmo generosa? Blá blá blás.

Eu falava do menino feliz, curioso e espontâneo que se deixou esconder pelo menino que acreditava que triste sendo suportaria a tristeza alheia. Eu contava do garoto que seguiu no porão do seu próprio estomago e deixou o outro crescer. O que cresceu sorriu com a boca, mas manteve o olhar reto, sempre um pouco molhado, para que todos se assegurassem que por ali nunca passaria felicidade completa. Mas ninguém nunca deu bola a tristeza do guri, que tinha tudo pra ser feliz... Afinal, ele tem tudo pra ser feliz.

Ao terminar o conto, do menino que mal conheço, mordo minha língua e julgo saber o que nunca vivenciei. Só não morro com meu veneno porque o que conto é só um conto...

Blá blá blás

Blá blá blás eternos de uma mente inquieta

Inquietações sempre vistas como obstáculos blá blá blás

Me levam onde tudo é intocável

Blá

Quero escrever um pouco sobre um pouquinho do que é sujo e engraçado

Blá

Será que o umbigo de um recém nascido é de fazer rir ou chorar? Sem significado causaria só asco? É molhado ou seco?

Blás

E o algodão no nariz de um morto? Rir ou chorar? Será só para nos protegermos do cheiro, que faria a morte do outro mais presente? Do outro ou a nossa?

Blá

A criança chacoalhando no colo da mãe, enquanto o trem corre, é de rir ou chorar? Quem cansa mais, a criança ou a mãe? É ela mesmo a mãe?

Blá

O olhar triste do velho em direção ao mocinho a sua frente, é de rir ou chorar? Quem olha mais o novo ou o velho? Será tristeza ou desejo?

Blás

Biscoito

21 de Março de 2010

Ta, hoje eu entendi seu medo.

E num segundo antes do outro eu vi nos olhos de uma amiga tudo o que se foi com você.

Ela me dizia de uma paixão tão presente que eu senti o que em mim estava ausente.

Rima pobre.

E Hoje decidi não ser mais poeta.

Hoje me cansei de viver em palavras.

Eu quero a poesia da percepção do que acontece.

Quero a poesia instantânea que só deixa marcas nas lembranças e nas sensações que nos assombram e dão prazer em tempos inesperados.

Hoje no caminho de casa, mais uma vez as estações foram poucas e o trem rápido demais para quem escreve e a poesia não teve um fim.

Hoje, ao sair daquele trem, me sentei em um banco qualquer, como se esperasse o próximo, e quis escrever minha ultima frase de poema.

Hoje sentada nesse banco, lembro da lagrima que escorreu quando vi nos olhos de minha amiga o que me deixa vazia e cheia de você.

Hoje salivando, cruzando as pernas, apertando os dentes, contraindo minha bochechas, remoendo perspectivas, tentava por tudo não ver beleza em minha miséria.

Queria por tudo dar uma chance a alegria, queria vê-la bela.

E num segundo apos o outro, desisto de abandonar minhas letras.

Dou as minhas palavras uma chance mais de se rabiscarem, de serem alegrias belas...

A agonia da mocinha ao me Lado me faz curiosa.

Ela reclama a falta de atenção da amiga e vejo que todos somos biscoitos na prateleira.

Me voy!

NEw York in 7 days

Today a Friend asked for tips about what to do in NY in a week.

I realized I had no idea. I never had to plan what to do here, because supposedly I have all the time I need since I live here. But now that I may leave soon, I decided that I want to have a tourist week, and do all I love to do in seven days, so I planned one.

Tips for an amazing week in NYC (from my point of view)

1 st day: arrive with an open heart and as little plans as possible.

Leave your stuff where you have to, and as soon as possible go out on

the street, take a deep breath and make sure you put the smell of the

city somewhere in your memory's archives. Turn left and find a subway,

any subway. Just take a ride, look at people around you, after a few

minutes you will understand why. At the fifth stop, randomly, get out

of the train and ask some hot dog or newspaper seller where are you.

If you are downtown, take a look at Brooklyn bridge and City Hall, and

then start walking north. If you are uptown, go to central park and

start walking south. If it's raining, common, you're not make out of

sugar, buy a umbrella and be happy (don't buy the cheaper one, they

will break in 2 seconds and after the 3rd one you buy, you will be

angrily throwing your umbrella in the garbage and looking like crazy on

your first day). If it's super raining take a yellow cab and ask the

driver to go down or up (depending where you are) 5th avenue (and yes,

just because it's famous!). If you arrived early, you may still have

time to walk some more. Just enjoy the what you see. You may stop at

union square and just look around, there's so much happening in the

city that never sleeps. If you arrive late, now it's probably time to

grab a nice dinner. You can try one of the restaurants at Astor place.

Around that area, on top of having great option to eat food from

everywhere, you can see a lot of interesting things. From alternative

clothing from India to a coffee shop where you can also get a

tattoo. Well, I think that's enough for the 1st day. Just go back to

where you're gonna sleep and pass out, preferably a little drunk. And

if you still want to party, you will find many places around Astor

Place.

Suggestions to Google and go:

Mae's Japanese restaurant (they have one dollar menu)

Yaffa Cafe

Flea Market Cafe/Restaurant

2 nd day, take your shopping list and buy everything you can. Try to

get it over with. Don't even think twice. Hopefully it will not be

Saturday and B&H will be open. Trust me, you will get tired of buying

stuff, and once you have no more obligations you can just get to know

interesting places. And even if your list is not that big, or if

you're not buyer, there's always just that little thing that you

thought you may buy. If you have no intention to buy at all, just go

to times square, and spend your day looking at people buying. Look at

all those lights and girls and boys screaming around trying to convince

you to buy something. And please, just buy one little thing, something

that costs maybe 25 cents, just to have the experience of buying

without a reason. You may like it or hate it. But at least you will be

sure of what that makes you feel. The second day is also a good day to

go to the Broadway show you (maybe) sooo wanted to watch, you will be

around times square anyway. After the show go to the lower east side

and stop at the first cool bar you see and just get the craziness of

the day out of your system. The second day is like this, just crossing

off things that you have to do that aren't that fun but that you may

regret if you don't do soon. The worst thing when traveling here, is

to have to go running to buy just that "little thing your dad sooooooo

much wants", that you can only find at Century 21 and you have only 3

hours before you have to go to the airport. You will take at least 2

hours to buy "just that little thing" and the other hour you will be

regretting not have done that before.

Suggestions to Google and go:

Century 21

B&H

Macy's

Schillers restaurant

Essex restaurant

Arlene's Grocery bar (they have an awesome rock karaoke on Monday's

night with a live band)

3 rd day, go to all tourists places there are. Wall street, Liberty

Statue, Rockefeller Center, Empire State building, Central Park if you

haven't yet, maybe pay a city tour. Do all a tourist would do and

behave like one, ask questions, complain, laugh aloud, be impatient,

be paranoid (you're sure that guy wasn't on the line, the food arrived

first on the other table and you're sure you got there first etc.)

Take pictures, ask people to take pictures for you, take a bicycle

cab, spend more than you were suppose that day, eat hamburger with

French fries and onion rings and get a milkshake as your drink and a

brownie and cup cake as desert. At night go watch a basketball game,

drink a bunch of beers and cheer even if you don't know who's playing.

After that if you still have energy for something else, please let me

know the name of the drug you use and I'll tell mine.

Suggestions to Google and go:

Tourist things to do in NYC (:

4 th day, let this be the museum day, chose 2 and go for it. There's

nothing much I can say about it. Only that if you chose Metropolitan

you can say you are a student and just make a symbolic donation. If

it's Friday after 4 you can go to MOMA for free. But there's many

other options and they're all interesting and full of things to see

(no, really?) After such a cultural day, why not finish up the night

at a jazz/blues place. It is a great experience to go through and you

can chose between the more expensive and fancy ones and the more

traditional and simple ones. And please get drunk and write poetry on

semi wet napkins. Then go back to where you have to, walking. NYC has

a different smell at night, especially when one is drunk and all

sensitive because of the great music they heard.

Suggestion to Google and go:

Blue Note

Smalls

Birdland

55 Christopher

Museums...

5 th day, this can be the Brooklyn day. Start going all the way to the

Brooklyn museum. Than pass by the Botanic Garden. Later on, rest a bit

on Prospect Park. And on your way back to the train, why not to stop

on one of those charming restaurants and have a mojito with some

tacos. Then go all the way to Coney Island. Take a walk on the beach

and a picture of the famous Wonder Wheel. At night go to one of the

fun pubs of the alternative Williamsburg. Go to different ones, you'll

find good music, nice drinks, fun people and a different smell.

Suggestions to Google and go:

Aqua Santa Restaurant

Almacen Restaurant

Bogota Restaurant

Union Hall

Union Pool

Spike Heels pub

Surf bar

Tea lounge

Brooklyn Bowl

6 th day, choose this day to go back to places you thought you rushed

and couldn't see all you wanted. You will probably get to see a totally

different place. You may choose to walk on a different side of central

park, or go back to that cute restaurant you couldn't go because you

chose a cuter one to have your mojito (and now you are not sure which

one looked more cute), or pass by Dumbo and visit the flea market.

Maybe you just want to chill out at one big bookstore or find that

treasure book on Strand (a great bookshop at union square, they sell

used books). You can also go watch a 3D movie and have that gigantic

popcorn bowl that its even difficult to hold if you also have a big

cup of soda. You can also go to Chinatown or little Italy and after

stuffing yourself with those not much Chinese/Italian food, you can

have a massage and have a psychic reading and all on the same block.

You can may go back to Williamsburg, just to check out their cool

thrift stores and other fun alternative fairs. Take this day to be the

unplanned day and let your instinct impulses drive you. You deserve it

after being such a good tourist.

Suggestions to Google and go:

Strand Bookstore

Barnes and Noble Bookstore

Buffalo Exchange

Becans Closet

7th day, well you got to pack. Make sure you do it early that day.

Because, unfortunately, you may have to go back to Century 21 and buy

another traveling bag to put all your old things inside (of course you

already put all the new things on your bag, hoping all could fit, and

if not, you could leave some old things behind). After doing that,

take your last shower on NY and head out. Have the famous brunch of

the city, drink as many mimosas as you can. It is great that it is

traditional to have mimosas and other drinks on brunches here. It an

excuse to get drunk in the morning and enjoy the rest of the day as if

you were in an almost surrealistic movie. If it's not a weekend and

there's no brunches with mimosas available, have a regular brunch

anyway and find a bar. Go to one of these traditional cowboy's bars,

with bras hanging on the walls, and have two shots and take your last

walk before taking the plane. Take pictures of your last moments

before going back to reality and pretend NY was made for you. Take

advantage that the whole city looks like a movie set and feel like a

movie star. When it's time to go back to take the cab/train to the

airport, take another deep breath and thank yourself for the great

week you just had. If you take a cab, talk to the driver, if he/she is

nice they will tell great stories. If you take the subway, well,

you'll be entertained enough just by looking around. Arrive with some

spare time at the airport, so you you'll be able to say a proper

goodbye to what you lived in those few days and get used to the idea

of having to go back. And if you really forgot to buy that "little

thing your dad sooooooo much wanted", you can find a substitute at the

free shop. Before getting into the airplane, breath deeply again and

hope that the mimosa will still be affecting your body, and that soon

you will be passed out on the plane, resting to be full of energy to

unpack and go back to your real life...

Suggestions to Google and go:

Coyote Bar

El Faro Restaurant

Johnson's Bar

Now if you are my friend, just come to our place and you will have sooooo much fun!