A bit of an interesting day in New York. A steam pipe exploded near Grand Central. The initial steam geyser rose higher than the Chrysler tower (77 stories). At my restaurant we turned on the news for a few minutes to figure out what happened before we switched to the Yankees game. No one was paying attention to the news.
After I got off work I was walking to the Village Ma for music when there was a shooting in Washington Square Park. I was on MacDougal street, about half a block away. It sounded like two fire crackers. A couple of people and I stopped to watch two chubby NYPD pant up the sidewalk to the park. People poured out of the park, which is a pretty popular, very safe spot next to NYU. Four of five patrol cars drove into the park, but by that time we had all moved on.
Spectacular events in New York are like boats. They leave a wake: a couple people get hurt, a few people will talk about it; but, as soon as the initial disturbance passes, the event and the affected people are absorbed into the sea.
July 19, 2007
July 9, 2007
missing misanthropy
I narrowly avoided misanthropy today.
I surely hold a kind view of humanity in general and I've been enjoying myself thoroughly as a still "innocent and wide eyed" optimist. Just last night my friend Adina explained how New York builds a cynicism into people over time. I shrugged: I haven't been calloused much at all. She explained that every time I talk to a girl, the girl will inevitably assume I'm picking her up.
That's set up. Today I was at my friend Emily's cafe. I noticed a girl reading a book on Heroes and Tombs. Having just come from the Mythical creatures exhibit at the Museum of Natural History I was curious as to whether the book was non-fiction or a novel. I asked another question, which was again politely answered. The third question received no answer and a disdainful look. I went back to sketching poems. Later I realized what I must have appeared to her as: just another guy trying to pick her up. That's when I nearly slipped into pessimism.
It fucking bugs me that this girl assumed the worst of me, considered me merely another man to fend off. And here I was, apparently one of the few guys in New York willing to take each person as a person and not a sex object. I took an interest in her because she was interesting, not because she was beautiful. And so she dehumanized me even as I attempted to humanize her. I hurl my broadsword through swaths of people, severing them with my wit. No, I have no scathing wit. To be so endowed.
The rescue: still hating every person I encountered I purchased Oscar Wilde's Dorian Gray. Then I watched Ratatouille, perhaps one of the lightest, charmingest movies I've recently seen, much less endured. I'd give it 5 stars for success on all counts. So that cheered me up a bit. I went to sushi, blah sushi, but still sushi, which cheered me up more. On the subway ride home I ended up in a car full of bibliofiles, discussing literature. There were at least 5 different parties, all interacting. As I got off the subway with two of my new found neighbors, one of the girls said "Goodnight subway friends."
That's this city. The friendliest people in the world, all of them misanthropes.
I surely hold a kind view of humanity in general and I've been enjoying myself thoroughly as a still "innocent and wide eyed" optimist. Just last night my friend Adina explained how New York builds a cynicism into people over time. I shrugged: I haven't been calloused much at all. She explained that every time I talk to a girl, the girl will inevitably assume I'm picking her up.
That's set up. Today I was at my friend Emily's cafe. I noticed a girl reading a book on Heroes and Tombs. Having just come from the Mythical creatures exhibit at the Museum of Natural History I was curious as to whether the book was non-fiction or a novel. I asked another question, which was again politely answered. The third question received no answer and a disdainful look. I went back to sketching poems. Later I realized what I must have appeared to her as: just another guy trying to pick her up. That's when I nearly slipped into pessimism.
It fucking bugs me that this girl assumed the worst of me, considered me merely another man to fend off. And here I was, apparently one of the few guys in New York willing to take each person as a person and not a sex object. I took an interest in her because she was interesting, not because she was beautiful. And so she dehumanized me even as I attempted to humanize her. I hurl my broadsword through swaths of people, severing them with my wit. No, I have no scathing wit. To be so endowed.
The rescue: still hating every person I encountered I purchased Oscar Wilde's Dorian Gray. Then I watched Ratatouille, perhaps one of the lightest, charmingest movies I've recently seen, much less endured. I'd give it 5 stars for success on all counts. So that cheered me up a bit. I went to sushi, blah sushi, but still sushi, which cheered me up more. On the subway ride home I ended up in a car full of bibliofiles, discussing literature. There were at least 5 different parties, all interacting. As I got off the subway with two of my new found neighbors, one of the girls said "Goodnight subway friends."
That's this city. The friendliest people in the world, all of them misanthropes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)