17 Sep 06

Time:

Left home 1853, left gym 2108... and didn't bother to record what time I got home, because I had a major open-doors-at-the-Grand-Central-platform interlude after I got on the (so-called) express.

Money:

$6, banana coconut Frappuccino and pumpkin muffin.

More interesting things:

Turned off my street, onto the avenue in the direction of the bank and the caffeine store, and Ben and I found ourselves in the middle of a street fair. This is far, far beyond the reaches of "cool." That's because, when you turn off Chipmunk and onto Ponderosa, you might see some 'bladers. You might see a Rottweiler. You might see a baby carriage. You might even see all three moving as a single unit. But I can pretty much assure you that you will not be coming across wire sculptures from Short Circuit, men cutting French fries, or blue police sawhorses indicating that if you cut through where you're not supposed to you will be endangering the lives of crepe sellers (or possibly cigar makers.) I didn't stay down there - Ben did, for a little while, but I needed to work - but it was just nice to know it was out there.

Realized - speaking of Chipmunk and Ponderosa - that it's less sketchy walking home from my train station at 9 on Sunday night than it is waiting in my truck for my little sister to come out of Publix two hours later (and 1300 miles south.) Now, for the benefit of anyone who might be inclined to worry about this, it isn't that I don't pay attention to where I'm going, or who seems to be going with me, or anything like that, I assure you. (J.J. Bittenbinder wouldn't be happy with me.) It's just that even on a Sunday at 2100 - probably significantly later on Friday and Saturday - people are out getting things done around here.

Decided that this is as good a time as any to record something I've been thinking about. A friend of mine says he likes this city because it's a place where your luck can change on a dime, which has not been his experience in other places; Peter Mayle says much the same thing when he comments that he has a "soft spot" for Manhattan because "it was once kind to [him] when [he] needed a break...." I think it's true, and it kind of goes back to what I said the other day about not feeling alone here. New York will surely feed your angst and separation if you want, your cynicism and hard shell if that's what you are trying for, but your connectedness and awe and pride if you'll only let it.

(And now back to the normal commentary...)

Had a nice conversation with a 174th Street-bound, rum-swigging friend across the car on my way back from the gym. All it took for us to get along was a shared inability to discern what the heck the conductor offered over the PA as his explanation for our unusually long wait at Grand Central. I asked if he had any idea what the announcement had been, and of course he told me that's what he'd been about to ask ME, so we both just shook our heads and settled back. He asked if I'd gone to the game (part of the earlier crowded-car insanity had to do with the Yankees, I think), and I said no, just the gym, and then I added that if I had stayed on the local I would have been halfway home. He asked where I got off, and I told him, and he laughed and mentioned where he was headed, so I said he definitely beat me out. As I got off the train I threw a "have a good night, man" at him and got a "you too, now" tossed back. The LTC does not know what he is missing.