Post-Modern Drunk: Personal Stuff, and A Fervent Recommendation
[The first two paragraphs are personal stuff that I find interesting but you might not, if you don't care about me or my health and just want to get on to the stuff that will make your life better. Feel free to skip it, if you wish, but realize, in doing so, you never get to complain that I don't do anything special for you on your birthday.]

So I've gotten really hardcore into cycling. Giff and I decided a month ago that we were going to participate in a 150 mile three day ride in September, so I've started trying to transform myself from an alcoholic ex-smoker recovering video game addict into the type of person who can bike 50 miles in a day, and then get up the next morning and do it again.

I might eventually have something witty or incisive to say about this–god knows cycling fanatics are weird people with a deeply off-kilter subculture, but just now, I'm exhausted–one month ago, I nearly passed out from biking 12 miles over two days, and had serious problems walking (it felt like my leg muscles were all firing at the wrong time, which gave me this weird reverse limp-type gait that made me fear that I was going to tip forward and/or hyperextend my knees. I don't even know what hyperextending is, or if it even exists or is just a new fear I've created)...but just today, I biked 27 miles and could even potentially do it tomorrow, if I can sneak out of work early enough.

Anyway, after that preamble, there's something I just have to share with you if you like joy and life and laughter and shit like that, because I have discovered something that will
a) increase the joy in your quotidian existence
b) make you enjoy life more
c) introduce laughter where previously there was none
and d) make you shit more, but in a good way.

But only if you live in New York City.

Remember these simple words: "Red Hook Soccer Fields."

More complicated words: The Red Hook Soccer Fields, on Saturday and Sunday throughout the summer, are staffed by over a dozen tents full of Central and South Americans cooking up and serving incredibly fresh, cheap, and awesome food, which they will put in your hand if you order from them and give them money for their goods and services. What you do with it after they put it in your hands is up to you, but traditionally, putting it in your mouth and chewing is what's done. At least in Central and South America.

Pupusas, ceviches, tacos, fresh fruit juices, and, my personal favorite, the huarache. Essentially, its a deluxe taco with refried bean prepared in the masa (that is, in the tortilla mixture).

So fucking good.

And they're open from 9am until 10pm every weekend day. Though there's a rumor that some places show up late and close early. Noon to 5pm is the time to go, apparently.

I can imagine going back every weekend–it is only 5 miles from my place, so I have no excuse now. Except for my biking shorts not having pockets.

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