Just some moments floating in my mind:
Leaving "The Lion King" a few nights ago, I found myself standing in a nook on 45th and Broadway. A group of children were having caricatures done while I stood impatiently. I was on hold with my bank, ready to verify if there was or wasn't any fraud on my card.
The problem with verifying things with your bank is, if the woman doesn't speak english very well, how can you know what you're agreeing or disagreeing to? It's loud and late and I am standing in this dirty nook on the side of the Minskoff and I watch as Ginger Spice gets into a little black car. I take a second to stare at her.
For a moment I am impressed, but soon I find myself shouting, "MA'AM, I CAN'T UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU'RE SAYING. PLEASE, PLEASE REPEAT THAT AND ANNUNCIATE! WHAT?! YES, I MADE THAT PURCHASE!"
And in that moment, Ginger Spice was staring at me.
***
About a week earlier, my friend Ri and I got coffee. I was desperately hungry, but she wasn't. And the obligation of old-friend-pleasantries demanded I subside to her wishes. We caught up and began to wander up to 14th St. It had been hot and muggy in the sort of way that suggests an impending thunderstorm.
Suddenly, two men began an impassioned fistfight in front of the 14th St Virgin Megastore. The ripped at each other's shirts until they were bare-chested and sweaty. It was almost like a macho cat-fight. A girl began to use her umbrella as a weapon against her boyfriend's opponent. In response, the angry fighter ran to a peanut-vendor and stole his metal stool. He started swinging the metal stool, not unlike some sort of professional wrestler might.
Ri stood there dumbfounded, "Isn't anyone going to stop them?" I responded as any New Yorker might, "Maybe. Let's stand in the store so we can watch through the protected glass."
Moments later, the fight ended, Ri took the L train home, and I walked towards 1st. At Irving Plaza I looked up to midtown: "What the hell is all that smoke?"
Funny the way that human explosions and environmental ones happen at the same time.
***
I love the way my attitudes have changed. I see a man passed out in the middle of a busy street and my first thought isn't, "Should someone help him?" Instead it's is, "Fuck, is he dead? Oh well..."
It's Saturday. I've sent all my boxes to LA. I just have Sunday and Monday left. And then we'll see what happens next...
-me
The problem with verifying things with your bank is, if the woman doesn't speak english very well, how can you know what you're agreeing or disagreeing to? It's loud and late and I am standing in this dirty nook on the side of the Minskoff and I watch as Ginger Spice gets into a little black car. I take a second to stare at her.
For a moment I am impressed, but soon I find myself shouting, "MA'AM, I CAN'T UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU'RE SAYING. PLEASE, PLEASE REPEAT THAT AND ANNUNCIATE! WHAT?! YES, I MADE THAT PURCHASE!"
And in that moment, Ginger Spice was staring at me.
***
About a week earlier, my friend Ri and I got coffee. I was desperately hungry, but she wasn't. And the obligation of old-friend-pleasantries demanded I subside to her wishes. We caught up and began to wander up to 14th St. It had been hot and muggy in the sort of way that suggests an impending thunderstorm.
Suddenly, two men began an impassioned fistfight in front of the 14th St Virgin Megastore. The ripped at each other's shirts until they were bare-chested and sweaty. It was almost like a macho cat-fight. A girl began to use her umbrella as a weapon against her boyfriend's opponent. In response, the angry fighter ran to a peanut-vendor and stole his metal stool. He started swinging the metal stool, not unlike some sort of professional wrestler might.
Ri stood there dumbfounded, "Isn't anyone going to stop them?" I responded as any New Yorker might, "Maybe. Let's stand in the store so we can watch through the protected glass."
Moments later, the fight ended, Ri took the L train home, and I walked towards 1st. At Irving Plaza I looked up to midtown: "What the hell is all that smoke?"
Funny the way that human explosions and environmental ones happen at the same time.
***
I love the way my attitudes have changed. I see a man passed out in the middle of a busy street and my first thought isn't, "Should someone help him?" Instead it's is, "Fuck, is he dead? Oh well..."
It's Saturday. I've sent all my boxes to LA. I just have Sunday and Monday left. And then we'll see what happens next...
-me