One of the side-effects of advancing technology, specifically in the area of mobile phones, is an increased difficulty in identifying the crazy. You know, mad lunatics. Several times a week, I'll be walking down the street, and I'll encounter someone talking loudly, apparently to themselves. Most of the time it's people talking on their phones, but through a headset or earbud or what have you. A few years ago when they first came out, I didn't notice the headsets and I just assumed these were crazy people muttering to themselves. But then I came to realize that most people were just talking on their phones. But lately, there's been a preponderance of bona fide crazy people I think. Seemingly normal people. Well-dressed and not very crazy looking. By now I give a person the benefit of the doubt and assume they're talking on their phone. But lately I run into people who, after a few moments of observation, are clearly not talking on their phones, or to anyone in particular. Last night, as I was leaving my office, a tall black dude was standing outside, laughing and muttering. Looked for the phone, the headset- for something. Saw nothing. He just stood there, talking and cackling. I could hear him after I crossed the street and was half a block away. Maybe there's something in the water or air, but a lot of people seem to be maniaclly self-conversing lately. Is that a term? Anyway, just be warned. When you here someone talking loudly and obnoxiously to no one, and you think they're on their phone, they might just be crazy. Which of the two is actually more desirable is a matter of some debate.
On Saturday night I went with Geoff, his ladyfriend, and Caryn to the New York Knicks game at MSG. They were playing the 76ers, which I was very excited to see. I'd enjoyed the basketball games I've seen in the past, and I was hoping that with my favorite team in town, I'd enjoy it even more. But the game was incredibly ho-hum, and the Sixers got torched by a CBA-level Knicks team. The game was largely ruined by the row of twelve year old boys two rows ahead of us. Walking endorsements for the right to choose, they stood for almost all of the second half, screaming loudly when nothing was going on, and obstructed the views of the three rows behind them. They even block my view of what turned out to be the most exciting event of the evening: The fan contest where someone takes a halfcourt shot. This particular fan had to first sink 5 foul shots in 30 seconds, which he did, though he sas a bit shaky. That netted him $777 (the promotion was held by some "lucky 7" casino or something). Then he got one shot from midcourt for $77,777. The little bastards were blocking my view, so the only thing I saw was the ball draining, hitting nothing but net, and the place went crazy. Totally money. The guy didn't even go crazy. He acted like he thought he was going to make it. He raised his fist in the air, then gave the camera a triumphant thumbs-up.
While we were excited by this event and happy for the guy, it was also a bit depressing. Caryn said that was more than she makes in a year. Sadly, $77,777 is more than Caryn and I make a year combined. But just barely.Last night, I was sitting at home, watching TV. It was very unsettling, because for the first time in months I had nothing to do. No jobs, no commitments, no nothing. I wasn't sure what to do with myself. I honestly can't remember the last night when I didn't have some deadline or commitment staring me down, siphoning away whatever pleasure I may have been experiencing while procrastinating. It was total boredom. And, you know, it wasn't half bad. My old, familiar friend. I've been bored a lot the past few months, but this was the first time in a long time that I could be bored, guilt-free.
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