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It's been exactly fifteen minutes since the last time I thought about Lenny Kravitz, the man behind rock&roll's 67th and 109th best rock&roll songs of all time ("Are You Gonna Go My Way," and this bloghouse remix of "Are You Gonna Go My Way" that replaces LK's guitar solo with the sound of Justice ass-to-assing a double-sided microphone), which means I'm almost exactly fifteen minutes late in recounting the last time I thought I saw Lenny Kravitz enter a lesser-known bodega on Fourth Avenue and 10th Street, right by Black & White and that restaurant everybody says David Bowie goes to. It's called Danal, I've never seen David Bowie in there, but I've had brunch here once, and I know about "the Goblin King," so I'm inclined to believe it.

This is what I remember: I'm on Fourth Avenue and 10th Street, the west side of the street, on my way back from the Strand, carrying a plastic Strand bag filled with lots of those canvas Strand bags that always fall off your shoulder. Across 10th Street, waiting to cross Fourth Avenue, is a man I believe is Lenny Kravitz. He has long dreadlocks and the kind of face that could clog a toilet just by blinking at it. On his feet are black leather platform boots that go up to his thighs, something like a 4inch lift, so we're talking about a man who seems about 10feet tall, who I failed to mention also has a messenger bag on his back, which I failed to mention is probably filled with copies of his greatest hits album, which I'm guessing he probably snacks on like butter-flavored rice cakes whenever the fuck he feels like it. All the sudden the light changes, I go my way, etc., Lenny goes his, "etc.", and all I can think about is what a fucked up world we live in where a man who looks pretty much exactly like Lenny Kravitz has to walk around New York City all by himself, carrying his own messenger bag filled with his own greatest hits, looking both ways on Fourth Avenue even though traffic just goes one.

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Labels: lenny kravitz