Weekly Vacation-Staycations

My job is a weekly exertion in travel, if not an exertion in the hope for humanity's soul, its a regular tour of the outer bouroughs, the Islands, and diversity at its most base meaning/s.

If I'm not in my Brooklyn Heights/Downtown Brooklyn office, the Supreme Courts in Manhattan or the Bronx or Brooklyn or Staten Island...there's always trips to one, or sometimes three, of Rikers Island's luxurious jailhouses, the infamous Bed-Stuy, the Westchester office in da Bronx, and tomorrow's stretch...Sheepshead Bay.

Which, for the lay-folk, is roundabouts Coney Island.

It's far, yo. Like, out-of-my-usual-commute far.

And I have to be there at 8:00 a.m.-ish.

I'm not complaining. I just get to tour NYC in ways I never, ever imagined I would. Seeing B.D. Wong on the L train or a filming of of "Raising the Bar" suddenly becomes all the more...unrealistic.

You wanna know what the average criminal justice system employee is doing on a regular workday in The City...he, or she, is on a train for the better part of an hour, or the Staten Island Ferry, the Rikers Island Q100 (formerly the Q101R), or in line for a $5 footlong.

You get to make new friends along the way, I'm sure you've heard my [(horror and) success] stories.

Oriental Antidote

I oft complain about the my failed expectations that is Chinese food in New York.

It's either too expensive, or too greasy, or too bland. All of which happen to cure the hangover jollies.

Last night I [over]ordered and opted to get the pork dumpling, steamed of course, in lieu of the chicken nuggets [re: NOT Chinese food]. Well, they were some the best I have ever had! Thay were meaty, not too meaty, but also had a tiny spice-kick.

Let it be known that my love of NYC Chinese was reinvigorated by a Greenpoint Chinesery. The pork fried rice, albeit that odd yellow, was also tasty.

I've been fully recharged to tackle the PILE that is my closet.

Thank the Almighty its cloudy, as well. 'Twere sunny, I'd be agro and not at all thinking on doing yoga-hour in my room, again. Yeah. I do yoga too. Which is basically just me, sitting in pretzled positions that I'm apt to anyways, set to Radiohead or other post-collegiate cry-baby concerto, and thinking...about pork.