borough borough borough borough borough

Greetings from the borough of Queens. Have you ever heard Michael Bloomberg say the word borough? Well, have you? It is simply delightful. "Beeeh-ro," he bleats, like a sheep with gas. Whenever I have the opportunity to say borough, I do. The borough of Oakland. The borough of Marin. Since those aren't really boroughs, it's far more fun to say it when I'm really here in the center of the world, where all hearts beat: New York City. I mean, ahem -- the borough of Queens.

After riding the Hasidic bus line up here from Maryland with entirely too many materials (thanks mostly to my panic over whether or not I should bring my computer to New York; decision: sadly for my biceps, yes) I walked in the pouring rain through Midtown to the subway, which I am happy to report smells the same. There was plenty of pushing, shoving, and cursing to make me feel right at home. Glowing with the happiness that can only come from narrowly avoiding being defecated upon, I switched to the W at Times Square with my many bags, dripping wet, and then proceeded to the neighborhood of Abby, where I continued for fifteen minutes, non-heroically, in the rain, with the bags, until I finally arrived at la Casa dei Pellicani (that's House of Pelicans, friend), aka the home of Abby. Somewhat later thereupon, we consumed substances that prompted me to order Abby to prepare popped corn and then that lent her the brain wave of a viewing of Point Break, a miracle of modern fails in acting. How can Keanu Reeves not know how vacant his voice sounds when he invites Bodhi to "vaya con Dios"? I'd love to hear him say "borough"; I really would. Can someone make this happen? Can someone make Keanu Reeves say "borough"? Substances make this problem even more pressing.

We are about to embark to the opening day of the Morgan's medieval manuscripts exhibit, and I am literally about to pee my pants. Some habits, especially medieval ones, die hard.