New York City is America at its best and worst. Vibrant, fast, big, loud, crowded, anonymous. The pace can whirl you into a fantastical frenzy of eating, walking, drinking, talking and dancing. Fortunately "The City That Never Sleeps" offers some of the world's best restaurants, interesting things to see, well-tossed cocktails, a melting pot of transplanted people from all over the globe, and chic clipboard nazi-patrolled nightclubs.

I visited some more with Mario and met his new girlfriend Sarah at a party Friday night at Chelsea Piers. I like her. She's an outgoing, blue-eyed blonde who likes to dance. We both said we reminded each other of each other. Sarah, Mario, Mario's best friend Nick, his girlfriend Phelan and I went to Astoria in Queens for a German beerfest followed by Greek food at Uncle Nick's. Then karaoke in Korea Town back in Manhattan. Mario, Sarah and I sang a three-part rendition of "Barbie Girl" and I tried not to balk when the $143 bill arrived. A truly multi-cultural night it was. That's New York for you.

I befriended a newspaper vendor named Rajesh from Gujarat who works at the end of Akash's block. I must admit I find a new interest and a bit of a thrill in talking to Indians. I never felt that way before; though I was curious about and perhaps a bit perplexed by their culture I had no idea even where to begin getting my head around it. Now I seem to be subconciously seeking them out and have had numerous fun useless conversations with taxi drivers, vendors and some random people on the subway.

I am in the throes of reverse culture shock. I was warned about this. When you go to foreign lands you expect them to be different. When you come back home, you expect it to be the same. But it's not. All of a sudden you see things through the eyes of a foreigner.

While walking from Akash's place in Tribeca (near the bottom of the phallic-shaped island of Manhattan) to Mario's place more than 80 blocks uptown, I passed a small basketball court on the corner of 7th Avenue and 4th Street (I think) and stopped to watch a game. How American! Ten tall sweaty urban black men in tanktops and baggy shorts running about in a large cage on the corner of a busy intersection! I love this country. Near the b-ball court was Gray's Papaya Restaurant with the following slogan painted on the window: "OUR HOTDOGS: - The thunderous pop when you bite into it - the saline tang of the pink flesh!! Oh! Yes! (Please! I'm Getting Hungry Aleady!)" Wow, uh, me too! Mmmmm! I think...

Oh yeah, I'm finding it a bit strange to walk down crowded streets and actually understand what people are saying! I feel like I am eavesdropping and it's kind of fun. Now if only I had some binoculars.

I enjoyed dinner with Daryl and Darran and the short tour of their very cute, typically-tiny Manhattan apartment on E. 77th Street. Life in the Big Apple appears to be agreeing with them, even Darran whom I don't think I could ever picture in *a* city, nevermind *this* city. I imagine downsizing their 2 BR - 2 BA house in Wisconsin must have been tough, but they look truly happy in their new nest.

Some of you have asked why I haven't written anything about Burning Man. I may, but at the moment I kind of like the fact that this year's event is as of yet completely unchronicled for me. I also didn't take any photos this year and I must say it was a bit liberating. You might however read this article, written by one of my favorite SF columnists about his first Burning Man experience and look at these photos by Patrick Roddie.

I am now in Boulder, Colorado for the wedding of my oldest friend from junior high school and high school, Jennifer Tracy. She's marrying Larry Leung, whom she met in college here at the University of Colorado seven years ago. I am in the wedding on Friday and came a few days early to spend time with them and help out a little with wedding prep. I will head back to San Francisco on Sunday.