Some Girls

Anyway, like I was saying earlier, it’s important to make new girlfriends when you move to a new city, but nothing beats having a group of steadfast girlfriends. Not a big group, I mean, just three will do. Proust called them gangs of flowers, or something like that, and this week, my gang from Seattle will be visiting me in New York.

My girls don't care about Manolo Blahniks; they don’t do brunch; and yeah, they like sex, but they don’t make it the focal point of their lives.

First you’ve got Anna. Anna works harder than most people I know and I probably trust her almost as much as I trust my own mother. Like my own mother, Anna rarely takes shit from anybody. She’s tough as nails, that one.

Then you’ve got Bree. Bree, on the other hand, I do not trust for a second, which is why I adore her. She has a higher creative IQ than anybody I have yet to meet on this coast and I could fill up this entire blahg describing her character.

But I won’t do that just now because it’s time for me to meet up with my little gang. You see, we have not been together in the same place since June of last year and that is far too long to go without seeing one’s gang. Yet I have not planned anything for their visit, as we don’t need much to be entertained.

Back in Seattle, it was our routine to roll around in Anna’s car, listening to the Cars, and getting stoned. Eventually, we would find a party to crash, or other such trouble to get into, but, mostly, we would just laugh. However, I have no pot and no car in New York. Such is the dynamic of our gang that we will be content only to roam the streets and laugh at/with one another.