Walking around the sunny realms of Brooklyn and Chelea today, taking in photography and fresh air as I battled a headache-inducing hangover, the world seemed beatifically ready to evolve. Last night Sasha, Kim, good old 12th-Floor Caroline and I were on the town, cought some rock at the Luna Lounge, slurped some frozen tequila at the hat (El Sombrero) and downed a pint at the Brooklyn Ale House. Bumping in to people and friends all along the way. According to Sasha I was drunkenly disinhibited and amorously grabby towards the end, a plus in her eyes. I recall repeatedly telling her, "I'm going to ruin you," in my best sexy/threatening coo. We woke up with our heads at the feet of the bed and though the details are lost to flashes of whispered blur, from this I infer greatness.

Of all the worthwhile things to do and see today in the City, Nan Goldin's "Heartbeat" exhibit in Chelsea must ride near the top. Lots of pictures of adults in love, fierce europeans, the children and parents of real bohemia. In the mix of it all, I once again realize how American sex is such such a childish thing, what with our adolescent obsessions and quick-fix mania. Goldin's photographs capture the essence of real human passion, lines around the eyes and fit-but-realistic bodies. Most of all there's the human electricity and reality of feeling, leaping out of the saturated colors with the nearly-inauthentic heightened authenticity and livewire brilliance that only true intimacy can bring. It was a treat for the heart.

We bumbled through a few other places, saw some massive foam-rubber sculpture by Ernesto Neto -- including a little house with catacombic overtones you could go into if you put on a special white suit -- and some fascinating manga-like paintings on photopaper. Also enjoyed partaking of the atmosphere in a few outrageously expensive clothing stores, and me with my orange Che Guevara cuttoff t-shirt and cowboy boots. It was a good day for art. Reminds me why people need intention in their lives.