Posts tagged ‘the MTA’
i hate it when i’m doing something real focused, like hanging clothes in the closet, and then turning around to catch my cat by the door staring at me. i hate it mostly because it happens pretty much all the time. i could be surfing the internet and turn around and in the corner of my eye, my cat is staring at me from underneath the table or on top of the ten foot bookcase. not a lot of people stare at me when i’m on the street because i am trying to go through life completely anonymous and i’ve worked hard to go mostly unnoticed by everything and everyone. but then this whole cat thing puts all the work i’ve done into question. i stay up at night worrying about it. i know cats are skilled and everything but if i can’t hide from my own cat then i might have a real problem. but what i really hate is when i think my cat is staring at me and when i give a double take, it’s my unfolded boxers or a hand towel discarded on the floor. and then i’ll see my cat staring at me from some other place in the room. sometimes i pick up the boxers or hand towel and throw it at her.
Don’t you want me?
You know I can’t believe it
When I hear that you won’t see me.
Don’t you want me?
You know I don’t believe you
When you say that you don’t need me.
It’s much too late to find
When you think you’ve changed your mind
You’d better change it back or we will both beee so-rrrry . . .
DON’T YOU WANT ME BABY?
people who say that humans are doomed don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about. sure, we’re putting metric tons of pollution in the air. we’re sending out drones to kill people. we’re burning down cabins in california. we’re putting hundreds of thousands of people in jail for drugs. but that’s expected given the types of intelligence and fine motor skills we have. dolphins and little furry hamsters would do the same thing if they had what we had. but one thing we have that guarantees our long term survival is hope. hope is not based on reason or logic or common sense. it’s about believing in something that really has no chance of ever happening.
“is it real?” she asked.
“of course it is,” she said as she glanced at her friend’s thigh. she hadn’t seen anything like that in a long time. “i’ve seen it work with my own eyes.”
“really?” she said.
“put your hand in this bag. do it real slowly,” she instructed. “and when you’re about to scream, just hold onto my arm right there and everything will be alright.”
i woke up this morning and discovered i had become someone else. i’m not talking just about physical characteristics. i’m talking about certain talents like playing the acoustic guitar and cleaning out vacuum cleaners. it’s an amazing feeling to know that even though your life was never how you imagined it to be when you were younger, you still have some identifiable talents that your kids, inarticulate or not, could talk about to others in perhaps the same unremarkable situations you did during one of your many life experiences that made you so damn unremarkable. even when i wrote that, i had to read it a few times, and not because these new nails were in the way. it was because of these glasses. they share the same u.v. protection that the astronauts have. on one hand, they protect me from the sun but on the other, i can’t see shit out of them.
children in new york city evolve much faster than the rest of the population. and new york city girls, well, even quicker. sure, you can try to keep them safe but when everyone lives in a blender at a constant mix and pulse, sooner or later that innocent girl of yours that loves to play with carebears and watch ni hao kai-lan is going to see that real life kind of grime that is starkly different than jumping in puddles or playing with finger paint. and the thing with new york city grime is that it doesn’t just sit there on the corner or in the alley or on the subway. the fucking thing talks to you in all kinds of different voices but it always ends with, ‘come on and look at me and then when you’re done why don’t you give me a little touch.’ you can tell your child lots of times to ignore it but sooner or later, the city you are trying to prevent your child from swallowing all of a sudden swallows your child.
flowing down nostrand avenue on my sailboat with a pocket full of pistachos and the new york times. underneath my hat is where i keep my secret documents. i do that because that’s the last place they would look. you see, they’ll search my bag and then rifle through my jacket and my pockets. and when they don’t find nothing, they’ll probably get up real close to my face and ask me in no uncertain terms that they could search my apartment if they wanted to. in those situations, you just have to relax and don’t maintain eye contact for too long. just look at the ground and think about how many steps it would take to get to sheepshead bay. no use getting angry or taking out the master blaster over a bunch of suits with badges. i’ve got better things to waste my lasers on.