So one of my best friends in the world lives in Maplewood, New Jersey with his wife and two sons. His name is also David. He and I and Mark used to live together here in NYC back in the 80's. We had a place on 65th Street. Front apartment, first floor. David would cook mostaccioli and clam sauce and we'd open the windows and blare the Chairman of the Board into the night.
So last night I grabbed a cab and punched my way through Times Square and finally to Penn Station. Object: Maplewood. Mark was already there. And there was debatin' to watch.
At the station you buy your ticket then wait for the track to be posted. When the number comes up the people jump into motion and surge for the door.
And then there's always Desperate Straggler...
Half an hour after trundling along in the dark the train pulls in to Maplewood. It's probably quite beautiful. It's definitely quiet. Which is a welcome change.
David and his family live in a warm house on a beautiful tree-lined street. We had mostaccioli and clam sauce then settled in to watch the debate. Mark sat in a chair.
Thus spake Barack...
After the debatin' was done I had to see David's Sanctum Sanctorum. Up in the attic, a small room filled with books and energy.
I slept on the sofa but was awakened by the four-month old puppy, Tonks, bounding on to the couch.
Pre-dawn conversation in traditionally hushed tones occupied the kitchen as David made tortillas.
Tonks bolted through the house chomping on animal, vegetable and mineral. Until David and his son, Dominic, took her for a walk.
I like these Guatemalan things. Actually, I'm not sure if they're Guatemalan. And I don't know what they are.
Oh, and Barack kicked ass last night.
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