March 21, 2003
An open letter to the woman I cornered at my friend's girlfriend's house at a party tonight.
First of all, just to get it out of the way, I again apologize for spilling those two drinks on you. I now understand that as part of my apology and explanation for the first spilling incident it was probably unnecessary for me to show you the odd way I was holding my glass, thereby instigating the second spilling incident. May I just say that you were very gracious about these accidents, at least about the first one.
And while you did seem to have it pretty well figured out by the time you left the party, I suppose I should still come clean and admit that I am not, in fact, a writer for the New Yorker in any capacity, and that the articles I claimed to have written were actually written by a number of authors, including many of Joseph Mitchell's pieces during the 1930's. With regards to my claims, any impression I may have given about the many fine vaudeville theaters in Manhattan is most likely false. On a related note, I realize that your comments about how difficult it must be to be a full-time reporter while still running a film production company and playing piano in a successful jazz combo were spoken with a tone more of skepticism than admiration, and I certainly shouldn't have taken those comments as an invitation to cut the already too-close distance between our faces in half, and to maintain that close distance despite all attempts on your part to extend it.
Finally, my tirade following your refusal of my offer to drive you back to your apartment was completely unjustified, especially given that I was extremely drunk at the time and had actually taken the PATH into Manhattan. None of your actions tonight in any way could have possibly qualified as "teasing" or "leading me on," and I obviously regret turning off the music to loudly announce that faulty assessment to the room. Despite these and any other unfortunate lapses in judgment on my part, I certainly did enjoy meeting you, and hope that you will not hold them against me should out paths cross again.
Ken
First of all, just to get it out of the way, I again apologize for spilling those two drinks on you. I now understand that as part of my apology and explanation for the first spilling incident it was probably unnecessary for me to show you the odd way I was holding my glass, thereby instigating the second spilling incident. May I just say that you were very gracious about these accidents, at least about the first one.
And while you did seem to have it pretty well figured out by the time you left the party, I suppose I should still come clean and admit that I am not, in fact, a writer for the New Yorker in any capacity, and that the articles I claimed to have written were actually written by a number of authors, including many of Joseph Mitchell's pieces during the 1930's. With regards to my claims, any impression I may have given about the many fine vaudeville theaters in Manhattan is most likely false. On a related note, I realize that your comments about how difficult it must be to be a full-time reporter while still running a film production company and playing piano in a successful jazz combo were spoken with a tone more of skepticism than admiration, and I certainly shouldn't have taken those comments as an invitation to cut the already too-close distance between our faces in half, and to maintain that close distance despite all attempts on your part to extend it.
Finally, my tirade following your refusal of my offer to drive you back to your apartment was completely unjustified, especially given that I was extremely drunk at the time and had actually taken the PATH into Manhattan. None of your actions tonight in any way could have possibly qualified as "teasing" or "leading me on," and I obviously regret turning off the music to loudly announce that faulty assessment to the room. Despite these and any other unfortunate lapses in judgment on my part, I certainly did enjoy meeting you, and hope that you will not hold them against me should out paths cross again.
Ken
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