29 October 2005 (yesterday) (tomorrow)

We got up in the morning and went back to Olga's place; her Russian aunt had made us tea and scrambled eggs.

We drove a long way along some kind of road similar to the George Washington Parkway in Northern Virginia that confused Olga terribly.   On one leg of the trip, we drove past a row of fancy houses that looked like an episode of Columbo.

When we arrived at the Storm King Art Center, I was reminded of the Wild Animal Safaris that I visited as a young man in Florida.  Only instead of lions and giraffes, there were manicured cornrows and big black Calders.

Olga and I huffed and puffed and wandered up and down several forbidden paths through the north side of the art park.  We sat for a while on a huge cement block and faced a generator next to a small river while Psychology Girl talked about being on television in Siberia and how she became obsessed with rural British mirror mazes.

We had a litte picnic, and the authorities made us sit on the official picnic benches.

Later that evening, I managed to meet up with Beatrice, Seth, Olga and Armen at the Blue and Gold on 7th Street.  I had cobbled together a Halloween costume from the ugliest items in my wardrobe.  From a smiling chinese lady, I purchased a small stack of poker chips thar revealed itself to be a cigarette lighter.

We were brought to Rubulad by an inexperienced cab driver whom Olga chatted with in the front seat and later confessed she found smelly.  Rubulad was packed as it had been during the Harvest Moon; I wandered through the masses of people just as I had before except this time I had another human being in my dream with me.