I don't understand what brings us together in place so huge. It's like when you see that friend you've been trying to edge out of your life due to her sporadic bouts of insanity on the train and you try to ignore her but she inevitably sees you have you have no choice by to say "Jennifer! Hey!" when all you can really think about is that in a city with 8 million people were you really bound to run into each other at some point? (What luck!)
And as fate would have it, it’s always the people you don't want to see that you do, and the people you'd absolutely fall over to meet (dear gawker stalker, thanks for teasing me with those John Krasinski posts) you never ever do.
So when I was downtown at a bar with friends on Saturday night and noticed upon our exiting a belligerent guy in the street being held back by the bouncers, that while certainly being a bad night for him, I recognized him immediately as someone I didn't want to see.
Apparently, "dude grabbed me by the neck, man!" is what happened inside, and now this mussed up guy with his shirt half-tucked in is out on the street for merely "defending" himself. "Bro," he said pleading to one of the two tall body guards who wanted nothing more than to continue on with their mellow night of checking i.d's, so they told him they were sorry, but he really did need to leave. The drunken guy fell back on the sidewalk and I noticed it because like everyone else who happened to be out there at that exact moment, we all couldn't turn away. "C'mon man!" he said, floundering.
Walking away I was hoping I wouldn’t see one more thing I didn’t want to see, until we turned the corner and found someone's blackberry in a leaf-covered puddle. "Just leave it," someone said. However, being a true believer in karma, I took it with me determined to contact someone in this blackberry to perhaps finally reverse my never-see-anyone-I-want-to curse for good (John?!).
The key pad was water-logged, and after reading some recent emails I was able to determine that a Sam was the owner and it was, in fact, his birthday. (What bad luck!)
His friends were of course all too drunk to pick up their phones and so I took the blackberry home with me (determined!) and made a call to a friend the next morning. Sam ended up coming to my building to pick up his lost device which contained all sorts of well-wishing messages about his just having turned 28.
When Sam approached I realized that perhaps there is no such thing as karma, because dude-grabbed-me-by-the-neck,-man was indeed Sam. I don't know how he ended up losing his phone around the corner in a puddle while in the throes of being kicked out of a bar on his birthday in front of all his friends, but he did.
I know he didn't know what I knew, which was that I’d seen how much of a mess he really was. However now, in the light of day (and slightly more sober) he could have fooled me. Sam said, "thank you so much," and then handed me a $25 Starbucks card as my reward - and anyone who knows me, knows that there really is no better gift.
So in the end maybe karma isn't worth all that much, but $25 of free coffee, surely is.
October 30, 2007
October 21, 2007
Because everything gets lost.
We go out and
go to bars and
drink too much (sometimes) because we don’t know what we want or
who we are or
what we’re looking for.
But he was tall and
handsome and
he saw me sitting there and
asked me why I looked so sad.
"I’m not all sad," I said, sitting there
drinking a vodka soda in the middle of all those crowded people
waiting for a friend.
"You look it," he said, which might have been true but he didn’t know me or
who I was or
what I’ve been through (as
no one in New York ever does) - but
he felt strongly about me all the same.
"Well I’ve lost a lot, I guess," I said. "And sometimes it’s hard not to be."
He smiled and
shrugged and
said "Well I’ve just lost a girlfriend who has lost her mind," (calling him three times a day now!) and asked if I wanted to talk about it.
"Sure," I said, so we did, and
truth is Ashley really was a little bit crazy and
then he gave me his number on the back of a Come See Our Band Tomorrow Night pink flyer that was on the table, and
I folded it up and
put it in my pocket and
two days later when I did laundry I opened the dryer door only to see little pieces of pink paper scattered all about my towels.
Sometimes you lose things, (I guess), that you were never meant to have to begin with.
And
maybe for some of us,
(I guess) that goes for luck,
too.
go to bars and
drink too much (sometimes) because we don’t know what we want or
who we are or
what we’re looking for.
But he was tall and
handsome and
he saw me sitting there and
asked me why I looked so sad.
"I’m not all sad," I said, sitting there
drinking a vodka soda in the middle of all those crowded people
waiting for a friend.
"You look it," he said, which might have been true but he didn’t know me or
who I was or
what I’ve been through (as
no one in New York ever does) - but
he felt strongly about me all the same.
"Well I’ve lost a lot, I guess," I said. "And sometimes it’s hard not to be."
He smiled and
shrugged and
said "Well I’ve just lost a girlfriend who has lost her mind," (calling him three times a day now!) and asked if I wanted to talk about it.
"Sure," I said, so we did, and
truth is Ashley really was a little bit crazy and
then he gave me his number on the back of a Come See Our Band Tomorrow Night pink flyer that was on the table, and
I folded it up and
put it in my pocket and
two days later when I did laundry I opened the dryer door only to see little pieces of pink paper scattered all about my towels.
Sometimes you lose things, (I guess), that you were never meant to have to begin with.
And
maybe for some of us,
(I guess) that goes for luck,
too.
October 10, 2007
New Yorkers we'll be.
It’s surprising how quickly you’re forced to grow up. Even on the eve of my 60th birthday (if I’m fortunate enough to make it), I’m sure there will be something that will surprise me, something that will make me feel what I even then won’t want to accept - that there’s no going back, and then wishing, (perhaps), as I blow out the candles, that wasn’t the case.
Because you can think a lot of things, I think, about who you want to choose to become. As a kid you think you can choose, let yourself think you have infinite possibilities and non-expendable dreams. You even sat at home, like I did, in your little room in your little town thinking about a world outside of your own backyard, and aspiring to one day be a part of it.
Then one day, far from that when everything in your life is falling away from you faster than you can reach out and take hold of it, you’re sitting on the subway, barely awake, unable to read, thinking about your life and what’s becoming of it as you speed and stop, speed and stop 72nd, 66th, 59th...feeling like nothing makes sense, when a flash of light shakes you out of your stupor.
You look up only to notice that the foreign couple across from you in socks and sandals, just took your picture. Your gut reaction is to think that you got it all wrong, that the camera perhaps went off by accident. However upon further inspection you see them looking at you still and you feel oddly exposed. Through their thick accents they try to explain away your confused look: "We just wanted to take a picture of a real New Yorker," the man says, innocently.
It is then, I think, at that exact moment that you recognize who you are in the world. That before long the place you live can define your life. That your identity lies now in the pavement that surrounds you. However what’s the most interesting, is that until that stranger across from you said it, you’d seemingly forgotten through all the mess of life, about that thought you had all those years ago about leaving your small room and your small town to become something more, to become...a New Yorker?
You grow up and meanings change and things can happen from one point to the next that take you away from those divine thoughts of infinite possibility and non-expendable dreams. You regard the strangers now with silent smile of thanks simply for reminding you that not everything gets lost along the way.
I am a New Yorker you think to yourself that morning and that day and maybe even the rest of your life. Maybe that’s what will surprise me when I’m 60 - that I still am. What’s surprising now? That no matter how far away from home I go, how many pictures of me be in other people’s photo albums, or how fast I grow up - it’s easy (even if I sometimes forget) to remember that what I’ve chosen counts for something, even if most of the time it may not feel much like anything at all.
Because you can think a lot of things, I think, about who you want to choose to become. As a kid you think you can choose, let yourself think you have infinite possibilities and non-expendable dreams. You even sat at home, like I did, in your little room in your little town thinking about a world outside of your own backyard, and aspiring to one day be a part of it.
Then one day, far from that when everything in your life is falling away from you faster than you can reach out and take hold of it, you’re sitting on the subway, barely awake, unable to read, thinking about your life and what’s becoming of it as you speed and stop, speed and stop 72nd, 66th, 59th...feeling like nothing makes sense, when a flash of light shakes you out of your stupor.
You look up only to notice that the foreign couple across from you in socks and sandals, just took your picture. Your gut reaction is to think that you got it all wrong, that the camera perhaps went off by accident. However upon further inspection you see them looking at you still and you feel oddly exposed. Through their thick accents they try to explain away your confused look: "We just wanted to take a picture of a real New Yorker," the man says, innocently.
It is then, I think, at that exact moment that you recognize who you are in the world. That before long the place you live can define your life. That your identity lies now in the pavement that surrounds you. However what’s the most interesting, is that until that stranger across from you said it, you’d seemingly forgotten through all the mess of life, about that thought you had all those years ago about leaving your small room and your small town to become something more, to become...a New Yorker?
You grow up and meanings change and things can happen from one point to the next that take you away from those divine thoughts of infinite possibility and non-expendable dreams. You regard the strangers now with silent smile of thanks simply for reminding you that not everything gets lost along the way.
I am a New Yorker you think to yourself that morning and that day and maybe even the rest of your life. Maybe that’s what will surprise me when I’m 60 - that I still am. What’s surprising now? That no matter how far away from home I go, how many pictures of me be in other people’s photo albums, or how fast I grow up - it’s easy (even if I sometimes forget) to remember that what I’ve chosen counts for something, even if most of the time it may not feel much like anything at all.
October 3, 2007
The fundamental structure of the Universe. (Also known, as Time).
It’s October and I don’t know how any of us are supposed to be getting anything done now knowing how fast time is moving. I can’t even think about starting something knowing now how quickly the hours and days are turning into weeks and months.
October. There’s nothing in this month that’s worthwhile except maybe Columbus Day (Which is Monday. See? Time really does fly) because some people get the day off of work, but most of us don’t and it’s really just there as a reminder that a long time ago some guy showed up here so that today you can be going to work to an office where you sit at a desk and look at a computer and answer calls and questions and requests and don’t nearly make enough money per year to really make you happy in a city that’s all together too difficult to live in most of the time - simply because he showed up with a flag and staked the ground for your future.
And your future is your right now which is, as you read this, quickly getting away from you. I would think that if Columbus pulled into New York Harbor today with his Nina, Pinta and Santa Maria, he’d turn his boats around right quick, not even stopping for oranges to help prevent the other half of his crew from getting scurvy on the journey home. That’s how bad I think life in New York can be sometimes because of its always-moving-never-stopping-pushing-you-forward-even-if-you-don’t-want-to-ness.
If I could venture a guess I’d say that Chris was an overall mellow guy who was OK spending three months getting from one place to another. Because that was before cars and jet planes and subways and trains. Things took time then - transportation and the postal service, and courtship and the building of cities. And I figure the longer something takes to happen, the more time you feel like you actually have.
So New York in all its fastness where you can get a job and lose it all in one day, along with your apartment, your subway pass, your boyfriend, your mind, and the building of your future, it can force you to look at the coming of October like the end of the (new) world, and have you searching the yellow pages as to where you can get a personal navigator all your own just to help direct you through the crooked passages of your life you have yet to get to (namely, November). Because if time is any indicator - it will be here (your life, your future and November) before you know it, so you might as well be prepared.
October. There’s nothing in this month that’s worthwhile except maybe Columbus Day (Which is Monday. See? Time really does fly) because some people get the day off of work, but most of us don’t and it’s really just there as a reminder that a long time ago some guy showed up here so that today you can be going to work to an office where you sit at a desk and look at a computer and answer calls and questions and requests and don’t nearly make enough money per year to really make you happy in a city that’s all together too difficult to live in most of the time - simply because he showed up with a flag and staked the ground for your future.
And your future is your right now which is, as you read this, quickly getting away from you. I would think that if Columbus pulled into New York Harbor today with his Nina, Pinta and Santa Maria, he’d turn his boats around right quick, not even stopping for oranges to help prevent the other half of his crew from getting scurvy on the journey home. That’s how bad I think life in New York can be sometimes because of its always-moving-never-stopping-pushing-you-forward-even-if-you-don’t-want-to-ness.
If I could venture a guess I’d say that Chris was an overall mellow guy who was OK spending three months getting from one place to another. Because that was before cars and jet planes and subways and trains. Things took time then - transportation and the postal service, and courtship and the building of cities. And I figure the longer something takes to happen, the more time you feel like you actually have.
So New York in all its fastness where you can get a job and lose it all in one day, along with your apartment, your subway pass, your boyfriend, your mind, and the building of your future, it can force you to look at the coming of October like the end of the (new) world, and have you searching the yellow pages as to where you can get a personal navigator all your own just to help direct you through the crooked passages of your life you have yet to get to (namely, November). Because if time is any indicator - it will be here (your life, your future and November) before you know it, so you might as well be prepared.
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