A saint or a psycho
Yesterday Diana & I had a long walk. A counterclockwise tour of the city from the Public Library on 42nd to some bar in East Village, via Times Square, W 14th st, Union Square, and finally St. Marks. Not touring. Hunting for a bar.
You wouldn't believe how tricky it can be to find a good bar with a good pool table and without already 20 people waiting their turn to play. Finalement, trouver un bar avec un billard s'est révélé inutile car nous avons successivement commencé à enquiller des Coronas, rater notre tour, éponger d'autres Coronas tout en decidant que la Grand Tournoi Diana vs. mézigue était reporté à une date ultèrieure encore non specifiée.
Later, on the way back home and while I was duly reminding myself that
1) the shortest way between two points in a 4 dimensions universe is always the straight line.
2) Zigzagging in public that early in the evening is bad for your public image.
when I met this black guy, George.
When you come out of the N, R, train at Canal Street and you want to transfer to the J train, you have to walk from one end of the Q train platform to the other. As I was quietly zigzagging behind him, I saw him tell everybody on the platform that they shouldn't waste their time. That there was no train on this platform today. Which was true. But taking the time to warn everybody on the platform?! By NY standard, this guy was a psycho or a saint. Either way, no way I'm letting him disappear somewhere without talking to him first.
So we did. Turns out he's an actor and also a very easy going, articulate guy (the former being his profession, the other two just a hobby). Turns out he was curious about the book I was reading. Turns out he categorically denies running for Best New Yorker of the Month. Turns out we had a good conversation about NY architecture and history while the train was lazily carting us about across the bridge. Turns out I might even still have his email address somewhere around to send him some more info on something I'm not sure to remember... something about a newspaper, I think...
Muses sponsored by Corona ain't good muses.
You wouldn't believe how tricky it can be to find a good bar with a good pool table and without already 20 people waiting their turn to play. Finalement, trouver un bar avec un billard s'est révélé inutile car nous avons successivement commencé à enquiller des Coronas, rater notre tour, éponger d'autres Coronas tout en decidant que la Grand Tournoi Diana vs. mézigue était reporté à une date ultèrieure encore non specifiée.
Later, on the way back home and while I was duly reminding myself that
1) the shortest way between two points in a 4 dimensions universe is always the straight line.
2) Zigzagging in public that early in the evening is bad for your public image.
when I met this black guy, George.
When you come out of the N, R, train at Canal Street and you want to transfer to the J train, you have to walk from one end of the Q train platform to the other. As I was quietly zigzagging behind him, I saw him tell everybody on the platform that they shouldn't waste their time. That there was no train on this platform today. Which was true. But taking the time to warn everybody on the platform?! By NY standard, this guy was a psycho or a saint. Either way, no way I'm letting him disappear somewhere without talking to him first.
So we did. Turns out he's an actor and also a very easy going, articulate guy (the former being his profession, the other two just a hobby). Turns out he was curious about the book I was reading. Turns out he categorically denies running for Best New Yorker of the Month. Turns out we had a good conversation about NY architecture and history while the train was lazily carting us about across the bridge. Turns out I might even still have his email address somewhere around to send him some more info on something I'm not sure to remember... something about a newspaper, I think...
Muses sponsored by Corona ain't good muses.
posted by Cecyl at 1:14 PM
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