Tuna. I need to do some work.

I noticed during tech for The Ghost Dancers how much i like to walk and eat tuna fish from delis out of plastic containers.

What I just wrote makes me think that blogging will never, ever equate virtual immortality even though its the basis for most contemporary communication, because that might be one of the dumbest things i've ever said. i meant it, and i'm going to elaborate, but really, that was fucking dumb. it's a curious thing, where all this writing (not mine, everyone's) will go in the end, but please be aware mine will not go down as most significant, and thus don't lament the loss of this post at world's end, when the internet goes out like Mordor.
in any case, there's something so comforting to me about the walks i take when i'm too busy to sit down, or nowhere near my stove, or i'm en route to a project that excites me. it combines an intentionally metropolitan 'too busy' attitude with really terrible fish breath. i can't think of a better way to live. i like deli owners, and the way they ask me if i'm sure i don't want a sandwich, i like petting deli cats and testing the variety of mix-ins that different establishments apply to their tuna salad. i've even gotten accustomed to celery, which makes my react physically on its own. i like how walking and eating out of non bio degradable containers with a plastic fork gives me the opportunity to keep moving and looking at things. it's usually very filling, too.

here is a rundown of the particular establishments that have stuck out at me in my past decade in New York City:

(oh my god, really, what am i doing with my time?):

1st Avenue and 7th street- they put dill in it! and it's mad cheap. dill, still growing wild in the east village, it surprised me the first time i had it from there. there's still little surprises in new york. this place puts dill in their tuna salad, and they have 6 dozen rows of organic spinach. whatever.

Key Food near my house, Washington and Eastern Parkway- a standby, reliable, convenient. it has red and green peppers in it, and the deli guys are charming. i feel so home there. my grocery list varies very little, and i only occasionally get tuna salad, and it's usually part of a sunday late afternoon shopping excursion. luxuriant, quiet and private times that i make a salad in a vintage plastic bowl, get stoned and mop my floors- these are rare times and so cherished.

23rd Street and 9th Avenue- a departure from the mayo based standard, there's olives, peppers, vinegar, and a cheery Ecuadorian named Max behind the counter. next door is Joe, amazing coffee, but you can't walk, eat tuna out of a container and drink an au lait. even i would never attempt this. also, that combination sounds disgusting, i just realized. but strolling west chelsea, hopping over dachsunds and smiling at locals while getting necessary levels of Omega -3... wonderful, peaceful.

Stanton and Allen- represents the split personality of the irritating-on-saturday, dreamy-on-tuesday lower east side. Pickles! oh, how pleased that makes me. 32 varieties of protein bars behind glass (?) and tuna salad with pickles. of course, if i'm in the area on a weekend and not headed anywhere in particular, it's best to go big and get whitefish salad from russ and daughters but that's something i prefer to do with alan. eating whitefish alone seems sad.

unlike this, the height of sophisticated and insightful prose. dont get me going about meatballs on west village stoops.