Exhibit 5a | Creative Disobedience

Ugh.

Long weekends are a double-edged sword. Four days off is just long enough to delude yourself into thinking that your work life isn’t so bad, and that when you get back into the office everything will be ok. And then, when you do come back to the office, realize that your job really does suck, you’re completely exhausted from your internal clock resetting to 11am instead of 6am because you slept in all weekend. Rah.

Regardless though, it ended up being a fun weekend. The weather cooperated for the most part and I spent more time outside this weekend than I have in quite a while. I even have the barest beginning of my standard summer farmer’s tan. Interesting though, because I agressively protect my skin from the evil sun (and shield everyone around me from Nightmare on Hirsute Island) most contact with the sun results in lobster red cheeks and almost always a strip of burnt skin around the collar of my t-shirt. Despite my time spent in parks and on rooftops this weekend, I didn’t burn too bad, although the slight tan on my face makes me look slightly dirty, rather than tanned and healthy. Sigh.

But yes, much time was spent lazing around in parks and on rooftops. And in parks that are high enough to be rooftops. I hung out one afternoon at the Great Hill in Central Park. I’ve lived a fifteen minute walk from this hill for the last three years and didn’t know it was up there. At the top of the Great Hill is a great lawn, much like the Sheep Meadow and the real Great Lawn, only without all the douchebags. The Great Hill is hidden up a path off the main park drive and even on a sunny Saturday afternoon, there were less than fifty people up there. Granted, you won’t see as many oiled and bronzed Upper East Siders up there; the Great Hill is more of a family area and there are lots of kids running around, learning to ride their bikes on the track around the grass, falling, etc. But despite the high child population, the lawn is large enough that you can find a pretty decent area all by yourself, which is rare in New York’s grass spaces.

Saturday night also marked the end of an era at one of my favorite bars in the city. Our dear friend, Sam Balone, has completed his run as our favorite and just barely competent talented bartender. It just won’t be the same without you, Sam. You know, you spend so much time cultivating a local bar, showing up day in and day out, MONTH AFTER MONTH AND THIS IS WHAT THEY DO TO YOU??? Ahem, what I mean to say is that Sam has gotten himself fixed up with a job doing what he wants to do with an honest to goodness salary, so we’re all trying to be very happy for him. We’ll be seeing him on the other side of the bar now, which will be a new and exciting experience. Cheers, Sam.

And for all you people who went to see Star Wars this weekend: You’re out of your minds. It was a beautiful weekend and I’m ashamed of you (although secretly a little jealous).