Jim and John.

Jim being Hemmingway at The Old Town Bar.

Jim has no internal dialogue. He pootles about the apartment narrating his life.

'….shit.....oh wow......what the -'

'You okay, Jim?'

'Yup, just trying to fill the soap dispenser....it's like molasses...'

'Say “molasses” again.'

'Nope.'

'Say it again.'

'No...(he laughs quietly)...molasses.'

His accent is subtle but delicious. I love the broader New York sound too, it's familiar and alien all at once.

I've been surprised by how friendly everyone is here. People say hi to me in the street for no discernible reason. My coat continues to be a daily ice breaker:

'You look like a polar bear.'

'That's some coat you got there.'

'My friend and I were admiring your coat.'

'You're european right?'

'Hey! Coat lady. Warm enough?'

Don't get me wrong, it's not that the coat is the most beautiful item in the world.

It's just So. Fucking. Cold.

Oh how I scoffed when people told me to be prepared for the icy winds. Eating my icicle words now. I've never been so cold that my face ached and I have several times passed on the urge for a cigarette because I simply couldn't fathom removing my hands from my pockets.

Jim continues to mumble and chat to himself:
'Right I need to get on top of things today.....won't stay in the bath too long.....ow my toe hurts....umm....right....oooh water....'

I'm going to miss his gentle patter tomorrow when he leaves for LA.

We're going out for sushi tonight.

'I'm taking you to one of the best sushi places in New York and it's right around the corner. It's not THE best but 'one of the best' by New York standards is still pretty fucking amazing.'

After that he's taking me to a bar to meet his friend Doc whom he assures me I will love.

It's the first time we've actually made plans since I've been here. Every day has just been a happy accident with a fair measure of booze poured over it.

I've never been much for whiskey but somehow managed to get through half a bottle of something called Botanical Rye whilst sitting in the studio watching Jim make art.

We listen to 80's music and take lots of silly pictures which he won't let me post just now.

I have developed a slight (extreme) interest (obsession) with a barman (legend) called John Nugent. He works at The Old Town Bar and has done so for the last 25 years. He's somewhere in his fifties I guess and he's basically a Raymond Carver story brought to life. After meeting him the first time with Jim I returned last night drunk and on my own. The place was heaving as I crammed myself on to the end of the very long bar that he manages elegantly and effortlessly. He sees me and strolls over smiling.

'Hello Thea.'

'Hello John Nugent. How are you?'

'Better for seeing you. Guinness and Port?'

'Please.'

I make no secret of my stalkerish interest in him.

'John Nugent, I take it you're familiar with Facebook?'

'I am in fact on it.'

'Really?! What's your - ' I stop myself. 'Look.'

I open Facebook on my phone.

'I've made a photo of you my wallpaper.'

Interestingly he does not run screaming from the building but instead puts on some glasses and takes a closer look.

'Would ya look at that. It is not often people get a good shot of me but that is a great photo.'

'I think you look marvellous.....in it.'

'Another?'

'Please.'

'This one's on me.'

'Thank you John Nugent.'

I turn to the man sat next to me.

'Will you keep an eye on my drinks whilst I go for a fag?'

'Sure.'

I return and thank him. He takes this as a cue to start chatting.

'Hey I didn't even drink a drop and I let no one go near it.'

I give him a repressive look and turn back to John Nugent.

'So John Nugent, have you ever been to England?'

'I sure have. On my honeymoon actually.'

'Uhuh.'

'It's quite a tale.'

'I'd love to hear it.'

He goes on to tell me a great story whilst I sit staring at him adoringly.

He tells me he only works three days a week and watches bemused as I type the days in to my phone.

I get a message from Jim:

“Tried calling you. No luck. Am home. I have another bottle of wine.”

'I'll be back in 30 minutes.'

“Well...ok. But you have to be back in 25 if you really want some wine!”

I cover three blocks like a greyhound and return to find him eating the chilli I cooked out of a mug.

'You drunk?'

'Yup. You?'

'Yup.'

It's very easy being a bit of furniture in Jim's life for a while. We're relaxed and easy with each other and we both like a drink.

As I finish writing this Jim is sat a few feet away:

'...what?....oh fuck.....huh.....oh okay....well I didn't know that....'

I have no idea what he's talking about but I do know this; Everyone is a story. The best people are a Raymond Carver story and life is a moveable feast. 

John Nugent. Legend.