Tuesday, June 29, 2004
Accidental AA
I was waiting for a friend the other day, and decided to take a seat on some church steps that looked particularly clean and had a bunch of other people sitting on them. As I am sitting there, I notice that pretty much all of the people are smoking, and wonder to myself if they are some rebellious bible study kids or something. The other people obviously know each other, and one girl is telling a guy about her job and the classes she is taking. She says "Marsha is so ambitious, she really jumps into whatever she is doing. She is the one that encouraged me to go to college." To which the guy says, "Marsha is your sponsor?" At that moment I realize this group of clean cut kids is not in fact waiting for their Bible study to start, but their AA meeting. I of course can't immediately jump up because that would be insulting to them (like the subway story I posted before), so I sit there for another minute. Some guy rides by on a bike and says, "Oh hey guys! I always forget about the 7:30 meeting, I always go to the 8:30 one." Having confirmed the purpose of this small church step crowd, I get up and walk across the street to pretend to browse in the windows of the Tibetan shop there. Luckily my friend came downstairs before the people went into their meeting, or they would have thought I had wanted to attend with them, but had chickened out. Or so dictated my "I care what strangers think of me" mentality.
Wednesday, June 23, 2004
Clothes
I have been thinking about clothes, and how much they matter… so here are a few little anecdotes about why, especially in New York City, the clothes make the man….
I took a friend who is new to the city to a party over the weekend. It was just a casual thing at some people’s house in Brooklyn, so when he asked if he should change out of his jean shorts and t-shirt, I said no. But then on Monday a friend who was at the party said something like “He was cute, but I could tell he wasn’t from New York because he was wearing jean shorts.” I had to laugh, but she was right. No guy in his mid 20s in New York really wears jean shorts.
Last night I was in my favorite independent bookstore in the city, on Carmine in the West Village. It carries random stuff and is cheap. Plus the last two times I was there I found random Richard Brautigan books that I had been meaning to read, at discount prices! Anyhow, so I was in there yesterday, still in my work get-up, which was a houndstooth (?) pencil skirt, sandles, and a red sleeveless sweater. The woman behind the counter had peroxide blond hair in braids (imagine a yodler). She was not wearing lederhosen or anything, but instead some black clothes that were rather nondescript. It may have been overalls? Anyhow, as I was paying she said, “Pretty sweater.” To which I of course said, “Thank you.” She added that she liked the “jet beading” around the neck… I had to ask her to repeat herself since I was too distracted trying to read her tattoos on her elbows. I decided that they read “KISS” and “THIS” (in the KISS band font) on the left and right elbow, respectively. I was a little confused by her compliment since her own appearance was quite dissimilar to mine.
Another recent incident reminded me that all New Yorkers are fashion critics. I live in Harlem, and as one of the few white people on my block, I kinda stand out. One night I was leaving my apartment and walked past a group of people standing (as groups of people tend to do in my ‘hood) outside my building. As I walked away from them, I heard one girl say, “Look at that girl trying to dress ‘black.’” I didn’t realize my jean skirt, halter top, and salvation army shawl was expressly a “black” outfit. Must have been the shawl, but thinking about it, a year ago when shawls weren’t trendy, the girl might have said, “Look at that girl trying to dress ‘old lady.’”
One final clothing incident: Back when the weather was first changing from winter to summer (you know there is no spring in New York), I was heading to (coincidentally) a party in Brooklyn (the first of two parties I have been to in Brooklyn). As I was navigating the subway there, I noticed flocks of young girls prancing around in those miniskirts that are all the rage right now. When I met my friend on the train, also en route to the party, we started chatting about these girls. He commented that on Monday the “Missed Connections” section of craigslist would be filled with ads of the “A train at 10:30 Saturday. You: wearing a pink miniskirt and tank top. You were with your friends but were looking at me. Me: short, fat, ugly, smelly old man wearing jeans and a t-shirt with paint splatters on it. Coffee? Drinks? Email me!” nature.
I took a friend who is new to the city to a party over the weekend. It was just a casual thing at some people’s house in Brooklyn, so when he asked if he should change out of his jean shorts and t-shirt, I said no. But then on Monday a friend who was at the party said something like “He was cute, but I could tell he wasn’t from New York because he was wearing jean shorts.” I had to laugh, but she was right. No guy in his mid 20s in New York really wears jean shorts.
Last night I was in my favorite independent bookstore in the city, on Carmine in the West Village. It carries random stuff and is cheap. Plus the last two times I was there I found random Richard Brautigan books that I had been meaning to read, at discount prices! Anyhow, so I was in there yesterday, still in my work get-up, which was a houndstooth (?) pencil skirt, sandles, and a red sleeveless sweater. The woman behind the counter had peroxide blond hair in braids (imagine a yodler). She was not wearing lederhosen or anything, but instead some black clothes that were rather nondescript. It may have been overalls? Anyhow, as I was paying she said, “Pretty sweater.” To which I of course said, “Thank you.” She added that she liked the “jet beading” around the neck… I had to ask her to repeat herself since I was too distracted trying to read her tattoos on her elbows. I decided that they read “KISS” and “THIS” (in the KISS band font) on the left and right elbow, respectively. I was a little confused by her compliment since her own appearance was quite dissimilar to mine.
Another recent incident reminded me that all New Yorkers are fashion critics. I live in Harlem, and as one of the few white people on my block, I kinda stand out. One night I was leaving my apartment and walked past a group of people standing (as groups of people tend to do in my ‘hood) outside my building. As I walked away from them, I heard one girl say, “Look at that girl trying to dress ‘black.’” I didn’t realize my jean skirt, halter top, and salvation army shawl was expressly a “black” outfit. Must have been the shawl, but thinking about it, a year ago when shawls weren’t trendy, the girl might have said, “Look at that girl trying to dress ‘old lady.’”
One final clothing incident: Back when the weather was first changing from winter to summer (you know there is no spring in New York), I was heading to (coincidentally) a party in Brooklyn (the first of two parties I have been to in Brooklyn). As I was navigating the subway there, I noticed flocks of young girls prancing around in those miniskirts that are all the rage right now. When I met my friend on the train, also en route to the party, we started chatting about these girls. He commented that on Monday the “Missed Connections” section of craigslist would be filled with ads of the “A train at 10:30 Saturday. You: wearing a pink miniskirt and tank top. You were with your friends but were looking at me. Me: short, fat, ugly, smelly old man wearing jeans and a t-shirt with paint splatters on it. Coffee? Drinks? Email me!” nature.
Monday, June 14, 2004
Elevators
My dad works for a company designing elevator button panels on CAD, so I always notice the quality and nuances of elevators.
There are two elevators in my building at work. They are sleek and modern, efficient and fast. And they announce their intentions. So when you call the elevator in the lobby, it tells you "elevator going up" or "elevator going down" which is great so you don't end up heading to the basement when you really just want to get to the penthouse. The message is friendly enough to remind you when you've reached your floor by announcing at the stop.
But what I reaized the other day is that one of the elevators is a man, and the other is a woman. This made me wonder... why? Were the voices recorded in the building? Did they come pre-recorded with the elevator? Are there choices you can make when you install the elevator? Like are there other voices that I don't hear like an english person, or even multi-lingual recordings? Or are the two sold as a pair ("His and hers elevators, available now from Otis")
And then I start getting silly... Is there "Love in an elevator?" are they "living it while they're goin down?" Does one elevator perform better, and what does this indicate about the sexes? No, thats just goofy... but really, why?
There are two elevators in my building at work. They are sleek and modern, efficient and fast. And they announce their intentions. So when you call the elevator in the lobby, it tells you "elevator going up" or "elevator going down" which is great so you don't end up heading to the basement when you really just want to get to the penthouse. The message is friendly enough to remind you when you've reached your floor by announcing at the stop.
But what I reaized the other day is that one of the elevators is a man, and the other is a woman. This made me wonder... why? Were the voices recorded in the building? Did they come pre-recorded with the elevator? Are there choices you can make when you install the elevator? Like are there other voices that I don't hear like an english person, or even multi-lingual recordings? Or are the two sold as a pair ("His and hers elevators, available now from Otis")
And then I start getting silly... Is there "Love in an elevator?" are they "living it while they're goin down?" Does one elevator perform better, and what does this indicate about the sexes? No, thats just goofy... but really, why?
Friday, June 11, 2004
NYC Subway stories (part 1)
I love the NYC Subway. I love how expansive and convenient it is. In my past life as an Environmental Consultant, the MTA was one of our clients, and I learned all about the subway and was even certified to walk on subway track if I needed to. But more than all that, I love all the crazy stuff that goes on on the subway itself. Sometimes you get a unique experience, but there are also those typical NY subway stories. Anyhow, I think this one falls somewhere in the middle.
So I was on the subway and it was pretty crowded. Every seat was taken (I was lucky to have gotten one) and there were a bunch of people were standing. I think I was going downtown. At one point I noticed the distinct odor of passed gas, one of the potential drawbacks to being in an enclosed space with a bunch of people. Especially when you are stitting with your face at ass level of the people standing. Luckily, the air cleared when the train got to the next stop, and some people got off. At the next stop the majority of the people exited, leaving me sitting next to a guy and the rest of the train car sparsely populated.
Now this is a critical moment of subway travel, like whether or not to pry the doors open as they close or whether to switch to the express train. I was faced with the option of moving to one of the newly empty seats at the risk of insulting my seat mate. I decided to stay put. Big mistake. As the doors close, he lets another one drop. The odor is so gross, I turn my head to try to find some fresh air. Of course now I definitely can't switch seats not only because I missed the window of opportunity when the seats being newly available made it okay to move, but because now I would clearly be moving simply because this guy is stinking up the train car. Fortunately I only had a short ride left, so I sorta held my breath until my stop, which was not too far away. Isn't it strange that I took into consideration of what this stranger would think of me switching seat? I mean, he sure didn't think of me when he had that second bean burrito the night before!
So I was on the subway and it was pretty crowded. Every seat was taken (I was lucky to have gotten one) and there were a bunch of people were standing. I think I was going downtown. At one point I noticed the distinct odor of passed gas, one of the potential drawbacks to being in an enclosed space with a bunch of people. Especially when you are stitting with your face at ass level of the people standing. Luckily, the air cleared when the train got to the next stop, and some people got off. At the next stop the majority of the people exited, leaving me sitting next to a guy and the rest of the train car sparsely populated.
Now this is a critical moment of subway travel, like whether or not to pry the doors open as they close or whether to switch to the express train. I was faced with the option of moving to one of the newly empty seats at the risk of insulting my seat mate. I decided to stay put. Big mistake. As the doors close, he lets another one drop. The odor is so gross, I turn my head to try to find some fresh air. Of course now I definitely can't switch seats not only because I missed the window of opportunity when the seats being newly available made it okay to move, but because now I would clearly be moving simply because this guy is stinking up the train car. Fortunately I only had a short ride left, so I sorta held my breath until my stop, which was not too far away. Isn't it strange that I took into consideration of what this stranger would think of me switching seat? I mean, he sure didn't think of me when he had that second bean burrito the night before!
Wednesday, June 09, 2004
Finally a week worthy of creating a blog...
Okay, so I have been thinking about starting a blog for awhile. I have mixed feelings on the whole blog thing… I mean it is so self serving/voyeuristic in some ways. And yet some of em contain really good information, humor and insight. I hope mine is more of the latter. So I thought I would try one for the summer and see how it goes, since I should be pretty busy and will have lots to say. I’m not sure that my friends would want their names splashed around the internet, so for now, I will keep it vague.
I am lucky to live in New York because random shit happens all the time. This week has been particularly random, and it’s only Wednesday.
Sunday: I won tickets to the comedy short film festival from The Onion, so I headed out to meet my friend for a pre-theater dinner around 4:30. And, in typical form, I realized as the door slammed behind me that my keys were on the entry table. Luckily, this happens often enough that I had the foresight to give a spare set to a day-trading friend who lives nearby and is usually home. I give him a call, but realize he was in Martha’s Vineyard for the weekend. The movies keep me in a good mood. I end up staying over at my movie friend’s place, so we walked home from the theater on 60th and 1st to her place around Bleeker and 7th ave. Monday night I planned to crash at a different friend’s house, but at the last minute hear from my key friend. I head over there and he is like, “That is so weird. Sunday night around 5:00 I was worried that I had lost your spare set of keys, or what if you needed them this weekend.” Yeah weird coincidence. Now I need to start thinking of backup places to keep keys, like at my office. Too bad one of those little fake rock key holders would look pretty obvious outside my apartment door!
Monday: So I’m walking to work in the morning from my movie friend’s house in the West Village and pass by the Bed Bath & Beyond on Sixth Ave. Out front is a van loading up some lamps and things. On the side it says something about “On-Demand Delivery” and “Murray’s Van Service” I thought, hey that’s cool, I wonder if they are like personal shoppers or something, like Fresh Express for home furnishings. That night as I’m on the 79th St. crosstown bus going to pick up my keys, traffic is all backed up. I’m running late and a little annoyed, feeling bad if I’m keeping my friend awake since he’s doing me a favor holding my keys. Then I realize why the traffic is backed up: A van was in an accident and is up on one of those flatbed tow truck thingies. As we pass by, I notice, you guessed it: it’s the same van! Poor Murray.
Also Monday: So I am a member of NYSC. But I had only been once since I lost my job in mid-March. The first month I was too lazy, and since the nearest one to me is 30 blocks away, I was not motivated to get on the train to go work out. Then I started a new job, so was busy with that. Then I was sick off and on for over a month, which sucked. I had no energy to work out. Anyhow, I got an automated message from them saying “we noticed you have become a lazy lard-butt. Come in for a free personal training session!” Yay! So I scheduled one for Monday with a trainer named “Trey” I show up and he turns out to be my ex-roomie’s ex-roomie (from the apartment he lived in after he moved out of our share). So it was cool, because I was a little nervous about what I would have to say to the trainer. But instead we chatted about our mutual friend and the little info we knew about each other (we’d only met briefly a couple times. That was just another instance of “for having 8 million people, NYC is a small place”
Tuesday: As I mentioned I have been sick off and on for a month. It Sucks. I missed some work, lost my appetite (and that’s saying something), sleep a lot, cough and sneeze. I don’t feel sick in a typical cold/flu way, just yucky. So I woke up Tuesday feeling like I’d swallowed a thumbtack. My brother used to have strep and ear infections so often as a kid that my mom didn’t even have to take him to the doctor, she’d just call the doc and he would call in a prescription to Walgreen’s. All that time, I never caught it from him, but I was pretty sure I had it now. And after 4 hours at the ER/Clinic (I don’t have insurance), they told me I was right. The nurse told me I would be cured by a shot of penicillin. “Great!” I thought as I rolled up my sleeve. The nurse looked at me, laughed, and told me to drop trou. So now my ass hurts more than my throat. I guess it’s a trade-off. But being sick again is going to hinder my gym motivation… especially since my abs hurt a lot when I cough from my training session the other day!
I am lucky to live in New York because random shit happens all the time. This week has been particularly random, and it’s only Wednesday.
Sunday: I won tickets to the comedy short film festival from The Onion, so I headed out to meet my friend for a pre-theater dinner around 4:30. And, in typical form, I realized as the door slammed behind me that my keys were on the entry table. Luckily, this happens often enough that I had the foresight to give a spare set to a day-trading friend who lives nearby and is usually home. I give him a call, but realize he was in Martha’s Vineyard for the weekend. The movies keep me in a good mood. I end up staying over at my movie friend’s place, so we walked home from the theater on 60th and 1st to her place around Bleeker and 7th ave. Monday night I planned to crash at a different friend’s house, but at the last minute hear from my key friend. I head over there and he is like, “That is so weird. Sunday night around 5:00 I was worried that I had lost your spare set of keys, or what if you needed them this weekend.” Yeah weird coincidence. Now I need to start thinking of backup places to keep keys, like at my office. Too bad one of those little fake rock key holders would look pretty obvious outside my apartment door!
Monday: So I’m walking to work in the morning from my movie friend’s house in the West Village and pass by the Bed Bath & Beyond on Sixth Ave. Out front is a van loading up some lamps and things. On the side it says something about “On-Demand Delivery” and “Murray’s Van Service” I thought, hey that’s cool, I wonder if they are like personal shoppers or something, like Fresh Express for home furnishings. That night as I’m on the 79th St. crosstown bus going to pick up my keys, traffic is all backed up. I’m running late and a little annoyed, feeling bad if I’m keeping my friend awake since he’s doing me a favor holding my keys. Then I realize why the traffic is backed up: A van was in an accident and is up on one of those flatbed tow truck thingies. As we pass by, I notice, you guessed it: it’s the same van! Poor Murray.
Also Monday: So I am a member of NYSC. But I had only been once since I lost my job in mid-March. The first month I was too lazy, and since the nearest one to me is 30 blocks away, I was not motivated to get on the train to go work out. Then I started a new job, so was busy with that. Then I was sick off and on for over a month, which sucked. I had no energy to work out. Anyhow, I got an automated message from them saying “we noticed you have become a lazy lard-butt. Come in for a free personal training session!” Yay! So I scheduled one for Monday with a trainer named “Trey” I show up and he turns out to be my ex-roomie’s ex-roomie (from the apartment he lived in after he moved out of our share). So it was cool, because I was a little nervous about what I would have to say to the trainer. But instead we chatted about our mutual friend and the little info we knew about each other (we’d only met briefly a couple times. That was just another instance of “for having 8 million people, NYC is a small place”
Tuesday: As I mentioned I have been sick off and on for a month. It Sucks. I missed some work, lost my appetite (and that’s saying something), sleep a lot, cough and sneeze. I don’t feel sick in a typical cold/flu way, just yucky. So I woke up Tuesday feeling like I’d swallowed a thumbtack. My brother used to have strep and ear infections so often as a kid that my mom didn’t even have to take him to the doctor, she’d just call the doc and he would call in a prescription to Walgreen’s. All that time, I never caught it from him, but I was pretty sure I had it now. And after 4 hours at the ER/Clinic (I don’t have insurance), they told me I was right. The nurse told me I would be cured by a shot of penicillin. “Great!” I thought as I rolled up my sleeve. The nurse looked at me, laughed, and told me to drop trou. So now my ass hurts more than my throat. I guess it’s a trade-off. But being sick again is going to hinder my gym motivation… especially since my abs hurt a lot when I cough from my training session the other day!
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