Recession? What recession?

On TV yesterday I watched a guy over at Coney Island eat 68 hot dogs in 10 minutes. 40 000 people had travelled there to watch this world champion gluttony. The fireworks last night were impressive: lengthy, beautiful, original, surprising and extensive, in the town of Nutley, pop 30 000. How can this nation afford this? We saw our first firefly last night - a curious mixture of invisible insect and electricity. Hard to believe what we saw, at first - only ever saw them in children's books. Today I watched a loon somehow swallow a fish with a circumference that looked twice the size of the loon's throat. Later today we found our attic apartment, pausing in merging traffic for 45 minutes before the Holland Tunnel, over the ancient Brooklyn Bridge. But now here it is surprisingly peaceful and I know I will be able to write here, no problem. I sat on the worn front steps this eve, with a Coors Light left by the previous tenants, and pretended I lived here. The rhythms of the evening are obviously ingrained in generations in this neighbourhood. Cyclists and occasional dog walkers coming and going, moments of almost complete stillness and quiet, broken by speeding pimped up SUVs cranking the latest rap release through open windows with the gas pedal to the floor, brakes pounding at the lights, then gas pedal pounded on again, horn honking, on into the night.

I feel inspired here!