My Precious Feelings As I Recount Kissing (With Tongue!) the Tribeca Film Festival and All of New York City

Celebrities Are Everywhere! My first day in the city and I run into Laurie Anderson for the second time in my life, or more accurately, her dog (unlike my last encounter, Lou Reed is nowhere to be found). "Why haven't you called me?", I hiss into the canine's whiskered mug. "I thought we shared something special, you bitch!" She sits staring straight ahead, mocking me with that the-fart-you-smell-was-not-made-by-me look. How is an Alpha Male supposed to lead his pack if the female won't expose her belly in submission?

Some Of The Celebrities Ride the Subway! I always knew that someday I would see Tom Verlaine in a public transportation setting, and here is how I envisioned our eventual exchange:

Me: Hello, Tom Verlaine, Musical Genius of All Time. I am unworthy of changing your guitar strings.
Tom Verlaine: Hello, Disco:Very. I've been wanting to meet you for a long time. For you are the only person in the world who understands me, the only person who really gets how brilliant my overlooked 1982 album Dreamtime is. I happen to know that over 20 years after its release, you still listen to it obsessively, and that is why I would like you to be my new special friend. Will you be my new special friend?
Me: Yes, Tom Verlaine, it would be my pleasure to be your new special friend. Can I play drums on your future albums and tour the world with you?
Tom Verlaine: Yes, Disco:Very, you may play drums for me because now we are best friends forever and you will tour the world with me, and although the other touring musicians will be a revolving door of comers and goers, you will remain my constant source of inspiration.

This, however, is really what went down:

Me: Ohmygawd! Ohmygawd! Ohmygawd! Ohmygawd! It's Tom Verlaine! Ohmygawd! Ohmygawd! It's Tom Verlaine! It's Tom Verlaine, sitting on the very same subway train as me! Ohmygawd! Ohmygawd! Ohmygawd! Ohmygawd! Is that really Tom Verlaine?? I can't tell if that's really him! Ohmygawd! Ohmygawd!Ohmygawd! Ohmygawd! It's gotta be him! Ohmygawd! Ohmygawd! Is that really him? Who is that woman sitting next to him? Is that a girlfriend? A wife? Why is she wearing Birkenstocks? Would Tom Verlaine date a woman wearing Birkenstocks? Ohmygawd! Ohmygawd! Should I go talk to him? Is that really him? Ohmygawd! Ohmygawd! Ohmygawd! Ohmygawd!Ohmygawd! Ohmygawd! Ohmygawd! Ohmygawd!
Tom Verlaine: (Stares straight ahead with that the-fart-you-smell-was-not-made-by-me look).

Everyone In New York Conceals A Hidden Talent! I'd love to be able to report that the street musician who occupied the 23rd Street platform performed his Neil Young repertoire with great skill and emotion, but in truth, hearing his wheezy whine and insecure big-dreams-on-display performance had me groping for the quick release only the third rail can bring. Where are the flesh-eating subway rats when you need them??

New York I Love You But You're Bringing My Reproductive Organs Into Regions For Which They Were Not Made

You will neither read me, hear me, see me, smell me or taste me for the next 7 days as I cavort and prance at the 2007 Tribeca Film Festival. If you're in the area, say hello. I'll be easy to spot: just look for the man on the observation deck of the Empire State Building whose fear of heights have made his testicles recess into his abdomen.