another_weekend_in_princeton crOwl early sunday morning and i'm sitting beside the huge plate glass window of the small world cafe, ny times spread out on my table, grumpy monkey blend steaming in a glass cup. i look up from reading, entertained by the trickle of tousle-haired, bleary-eyed patrons entering one by one, two by two like animals into noah's ark. there's a bench where a former homecoming queen sits with her great pyrenees on a leash. many stop, smiling to pet him and tell her how beautiful he is. there's a child who gets off her mother's bike with the one-wheeled extension and an orange safety flag with her name, zoe. she lingers before going in, touching the flowers in the pot by the door as if to bless them or taking from them what they are giving her. i hear talk of bar harbor, maine and houses by the ocean. i see a girl who doesn't shave her armpits, with dreadlocks pulled back. i watch a worker come out and light up a cigarette. he uses his car lighter to give an indian girl with long raven-black hair a light. she shakes it like a match when she's done. a baby sucks on a butterfly-shaped binkie and stares at his mother from his stroller seat as if she is art. there are two chinese men shaking hands, another little girl waits for her father to come up the sidewalk. she dances into his arms. and then there's me. who do they say i am? we took my mom with us this time to pick geta up from her week long film camp. she was drunk with incredulity. tim the doorman for the nassau inn told us michelle pfeiffer gave him a twenty dollar tip. we watched greta's film along with 17 others. pride is a friend of love. 040726 what's it to you? who go blather from