A Final Kampai for Angel’s Share, My Favorite Bar in New York
Why not form friendship around a love of good drink, openness, and a desire to treat each other with fairness?
FliesThe way people get still when they try not to react, to keep cool. To not be seen.Turning up the volume on everything / I could stay here for such a long time.
New York Times MagazineDrinking with Men
Coming here, I pulled my same old move, walking downtown toward home before turning back around to Angel’s. It is my solitary love, my most selfish indulgence. It is busy here, and while I am not particularly interested in staying out late, I want to stay long enough for it to calm . . .
This bar will always smell like Smoke Gets in Your Eyes. If I ever this bar, or it goes somewhere I can’t reach, and I smell that scent in many years, in a faraway city, it will bring me to my knees, like the smell of a long-ago lover or a long-lost son.
—thank you for holding me through so many stages of life
What if the clock stops, if this moment never ends, what if we move together into some weird liminal purgatory where minutes ooze past like overly thickened simple syrup, where nothing more needs to be accomplished than what already has been?
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