Rabbits and NY City

Went to Kari's for tea and a chat. Met up with her rabbits, both of whom are very cute and fuzzy. Good fun.
Other than that...tomorrow is Valentine's day, or rather National Singles Awareness Day. You shall know us by the gloomy expressions and the "ask me out, I'm charismatic" looks on our faces.
Time to update the cast of characters:
Pirategirl/Sparklie: a piratical viola playing friend
Kari: Bro's GF's sister and friend of mine
Entwistle: Who fan extraoridinaire
Ferdinand: one of those people who can twist the most innocent of phrases into something completely wrong
yeah...
Plus, big news, we are going to NEW YORK!!!!
Yes, all five of us. (me, ma, dad, bro, hgf.) and we're staying in the Algonquin. HOW AWESOME IS THAT??????? Had a slim chance of staying at the Chelsea Hotel, but that didn't work out. Ma didn't trust it to have hypoallergenic bedding. I'm skint or else I'd stay there myself (I hate sharing hotel rooms). Still, this shall be fun. Oh yeah.
Been listening to some Bowie stuff besides Ziggy Stardust: Low and Stationtostation. Jolly good.
that's about it. I have a headache.
Party on!

1979

Sid Vicious is the icon that punk rests upon. He was the best of punk and the worst of punk and the very worst of human degradation. He was a junkie, a would-be hard man, a terrible bassist, and quite possibly a murderer as well. But we love him. Why?
Because he really believed in punk and the associated subculture. Because he was essentially a sweet kid. Because he managed to look good even with the words "Search and Destroy" carved into his chest. And because he really is a punk icon. The leather jacket, the boots, the chain? Classic! Sid!
And yes, he was an idiot. His song lyrics are pretty weak and he never bothered to learn his instrument. But he presented himself as a good punk bass player so we believed him. He lived fast, died young, and left a good-looking if slightly bruised corpse. Elvis never managed that.
Bob Gruen, a great photographer, toured with the Sex Pistols in America. He had a pair of motorcycle boots that Sid coveted. Once Bob fell asleep on the bus with his boots resting on the seat beside him. Sid came over and held a knife to his throat, saying, "If I killed him, I could keep his boots." He didn't, and when Bob woke up he found Sid wearing his boots with a goofy smile on his face. "I like your boots. May I wear them for a bit? You can wear mine, if you like."
I am the world's forgotten boy one who searches, searches to destroy!