This morning there was a fairly attractive girl on the subway who caught my attention. Not terribly gorgeous or anything, but she was the most attractive girl on the car. However, any prospect of long-term romance between us was quickly torpedoed after I took a good look at her freakishly long toes. If I had feet like that, I would never wear open-toed shoes. Then again, I'm sure she's used to it and never even thinks about it, even while painting them that burgundy color she had on. I swear, her big toe was longer than my thumb. And it just got worse as you went down the row. Those little piggies have had too much roast beef.A fairly uneventful weekend. Friday night I stayed at home. The most notable activities were the capturing of a centipede in a jar, and the baking of brownies around midnight. Then eating of said brownies with a big cold glass of milk. Saturday, I spent most of the day at home. I was just starting to get over my sickness. I thought. In the evening, we went over to Jen's new apartment, just east of Grand Army Plaza. We were looking to have a night on the cheap, and Jen proposed a family game night. So I went over there around eight, and Matt and Jed arrived shortly after. Jen had made a casserole and everything. Very impressive. So we played a few games of Pente, the "classic game of skill," and watched most of Wallstreet, which was on AMC. After a while, I began to get all short of breath and asthmatic, meaning my sickness hadn't yet gone away. I'm allergic to dogs a lot of the time, and especially when I'm already sick. And Jen used to own a dog, so there was some hair still around. Matt was also somewhat allergic and miserable. We noticed a scratching post and a food and water dish, and Jen told us she was getting a cat. Matt said she had to decide between human and animal companionship at her new apartment. She said she'd long ago made up her mind.
Around midnight, I couldn't take it anymore, so I left. The bike ride home was wonderful. I was listening to that Flaming Lips song, Fight Test, the whole way, and it made the ride in the cool night astoundingly enjoyable. Especially the long downhill part. Jen lives on the up the slope from Park Slope, so any ride home from her house features a nice long breezy coast downhill. Once I got to my apartment, I just rode right by, hit repeat on the mp3 player, and did another lap. The bobbing and weaving and serpentine patterns through the street at high speeds on a cool night was without a doubt the most enjoyable thing I've done it days.
On Sunday, I walked down 7th ave. for a bit, because there was a grand street fair going on. Something possessed me to spend seven dollars on a pair of maracas. Those should prove annoying. I also bought a giant container or garlic salt for 2 dollars, and a four dollar corn dog. Then I took a little bike ride in the park. Last Tuesday or so, on my ride through the park, I stopped by the pond around the Boathouse in Prospect Park, where I saw a giant white bird standing in the water. I've since learned it was a Great Egret. It stood so still in the water I thought it was fake. Then, after five minutes, it lunged its long beak into the water and pulled out a small fish. It did this several times. Then it tried to catch some dragonflies in its beak. It reminded me of the scene in the Karate Kid, where they're trying to catch flies with chopsticks. I was amazed how it moved through the water, not even causing a ripple. Of course, the green growth on the water surface helped a bit. When it flew off, I followed it. It's wingspan was enormous. Also extremely neat-o was the way it contracted its 12-inch neck into its body when it flew. Anyway, I rode back on Saturday, hoping to see it again. I did not. As this bird checklist tells me, the Great Egret is actually a pretty uncommon sighting in Prospect Park, with only one to four a day spotted. There was another interesting bird I saw both days, and I've spent the better part of the morning trying to figure out what it is. There was a telescope in the Boathouse balcony, and, after spending several minutes trying to find the bird in the telescope, I was able to take a picture. I was really surprised that it worked. I just put the lens up to the viewfinder. Anyway, here it is.If you happen to be an ornithologist or something, I'd really like to know what this is. Nate thought it was a kingfisher, but I don't think so.
The renovated Boathouse. The telescope is on the balcony. Also there is a periscope to see over the rooftop. It's in the shape of a giant hawk head. I felt kind of stupid, but I can never resist a periscope.
I also stopped by Grand Army Plaza on my way home to see this installation art exhibit. An artist by the name of Anissa Mack had received a $10,000 grant to set up a little house. Inside the house, all she did was make apple pies, one after another. She would then set these pies on the windowsill. The goal of this interactive installation was to recreate the classic American Scene of stealing a pie off a windowsill. So once she out the pie out there, anyone passing by was free to take it. Of course, the hitch in this was that the pies weren't taken by innocent passers-by, but by people who now wait hours on hours for the next pie to be ready. Still, it's a really interesting idea, and fun to watch. The house was also built by the Amish people of Lancaster, Pennsylvania, which is a short drive down route 222 from my home in PA. It was interesting to see how many people were taking pictures and videotaping the whole thing. Sometimes I feel like people lose the enjoyment of a moment because they're too worried about preserving the moment. I include myself in this lament.
Pie and/or art enthusiasts outside the little pie house
Anissa Mack. She seemed sort of worn down, and I wondered if she was thinking maybe it wasn't such a good idea after all. But she seemed very pleasant.
A profile of the house, outside the Brooklyn Public Library. The girl posing there desperately wanted me to take her picture in front of the house. She was quite pleased with the results.
Mack, answering children's questions. She said her dad told her how to make pies. One child asked "If...If you're like sick one day and can't make pies, will your dad come and make the pies?" I found that very amusing.
The house, with Grand Army Plaza in the Background
The sign detailing the exhibit. Why Mr. Jonah Freeman got top billing, I have no idea. I didn't see him inside making no pies. It's a man's world, I'm sad to report.
The Pie Thief, with his "stolen" pie
Then I went into the city to run some errands and meet up with people. First, to Kmart, where I purchased a new Dirt Devil handheld vacuum. Dirt Devil has a picture of this model, the Scorpion, holding up a 265 pound refrigerator. I don't believe it. But I will try it. Anyway, I figured, after living in my apartment for almost three years, that it was far past time I did something about the dust problem. Then I met up with Caryn and Nate, and we walked over to the Espresso bar on Christopher street, the gayest place I go with any frequency. Caryn's Spin intern Bianca works there, and we hooked us up with some coffee. Caryn also gave me the Korg digital four track that I'd bought. They did of a review of it in Spin, and I just bought that one, which saved me a hundred bucks. Then I was off. Matthew McConaughey was filming a movie at the little park on 7th ave and Christopher street, and I stopped by to gawk. He was getting makeup applied and eating a sandwich. Then off to meet Rodzilla.
We had been trying to go see About A Boy for a few weeks now, but something had always come up. So finally we made concrete plans to go on Sunday after she got out of work. So I met her at the 19th st. theatre on Broadway. She told me that my ex-roommate Alice was walked in while I was in the bathroom. But I didn't see her. Anyway, I really enjoyed the film, more than any movie I've seen this year. I normally can't stand Hugh Grant, and this was the first time I'd enjoyed him in a film. I like his style in the movie. A lot. Also, this was the third movie Rodzilla and I have seen together that featured the actress Toni Collette. Just a little useless info.
So after the movie, we sat for a long while in Union Square. I'd suspected for the last few days that Rodzilla had been trying to tell me something. Every once in a while she'd take this deep breath, like she was about to say something important, then say nothing. I know her well enough to know that sound by now. I assumed she was going to tell me that she'd started dating someone. So it wasn't really much of a surprise when she told me just that. The most surprising thing, really, is that we stopped being girlfriend/boyfriend almost two years ago, and as far as I know this is the first person she's dated since. I mean that as a compliment. Of course, there was a sort of messy, in-between period for quite a bit after the initial breakup, so I suppose you could call it a little more than a year. We'd had a series of bad conversations around February, where it was decided that it was pretty much a given that as soon as one of us started seeing someone, we couldn't hang out anymore. But I think we're well past that now. Anyway, the story of how they met seemed quite implausible. They were on the same subway car, and ended up walking the same direction, and kept passing each other. Finally, she decided she needed to say something. And then he asked her out. I couldn't fucking believe it. If anyone had told me this story, I'd have felt the same way. This is the sort of thing you always think about, but assume never really happens. Anyway, she said she felt like she needed to tell me because it'd been going on for about a month, and she felt like she was hiding something from me. Fair enough. I hadn't been really forthcoming with that whole Connie thing back in December, and only told her so after she started asking. Of course, I did write about it, so it was only reasonable to expect that of course she would find out. I don't know why I didn't tell her in the first place. Actually, I do. Anyway, I took the news surprisingly well. We've made the transition to friends pretty well, though it did take an excruciatingly long time, with a lot of terribleness in between. Still, it's never the happiest of news when you hear the ex is dating someone. But I'd had almost two years to prepare for it. If this had happened a year ago, I probably would've been a wreck. She didn't ask me if I was seeing anybody, which struck me as sort of odd, since she often does. Anyway, after talking for a bit, I seemed fine. I wondered, though, how I'd feel after I got home, when I didn't have to say "I'm happy for you." And I felt just fine. In fact, her news gave me the perfect ending for a story I'm doing for my writing class, and I was more excited about that than upset at the news. Which surprised me. Up until yesterday, I had an article I was pretty happy with, except there was no ending. Now I have the exact ending that the story needed, and I didn't even have to make it up. It's almost too perfect though. It sounds almost too pithy and tidy. I wrote it in my head the whole way home on the subway. I'm pretty excited about it. Though I do make the conversation we had last night seem somewhat trivial, when that wasn't the case. But just for the sake of the narrative. I do that. The story is a basic story of loss and insecurity, and centers around the reasons I would never by Rodzilla sexy underpants and whatnot. I'm curious to find out what the reaction will be in class when it gets read aloud. By the way, something that never happens in movies, but I feel like should, is important and emotional conversations getting interrupted by the intense need of one or both parties to pee. They really need more accessible bathrooms around Union Square. I mean, the place is lined with bars and coffee shops, for chrissake.
While we were sitting there, this man comes up to us and says he was from some park department or something. He said he had to give me a ticket for sitting with too pretty a girl. Ha, I says. Then, much to my dismay, he produces a pad, pulls a sheet off, and sure enough, it's a ticket, with several different scenarios. It looks like something you'd get in 5th grade. It says "Citation" on the top, with the "C" backwards, and a cartoony picture of a cop. Then it lists the different charges. They include: Girl or Guy Watching. Smiling Without a Permit. Being A Pretty Girl. Being With A Pretty Girl/Handsome Guy. Not Shaving Properly. And Failure to Party. The "Failure to Party" choice has a picture of a duck, wearing a tanktop, Jams, sandals, and sunglasses, holding a little drink with an umbrella in it. So the guy gives this this ticket and says I have to pay him a donation for sitting with a pretty girl. I say "Wait a minute! Doesn't she get a ticket for anything!?" He says "What, you want her to get a ticket for sitting with a Handsome Guy?" "Damn straight!" So he gives her a ticket. I ask, "How come there's no ticket for Being A Handsome Guy, only for being a Pretty Girl?" He ignored this, and said we had to pay a donation. But we would get a nice little peace sticker. I gestured to Rodzilla and said "You like peace." and she coughed up a dollar for the guy. He did go to the trouble to pass out the tickets after all. It was a nice cool night to sit in the park. And it made me really appreciate to be living in here. By the way, they don't make mornings much more pleasant than the one this morning. Mid 60's and sunny. I didn't even mind that I was going to work.
