Adventures in Powerlessness

The universe had something to say today. Time can't be controlled, it said - not by me and not by the chick with the jingly hair who shared the subway with me from 125th street. This was after the subway we were on passed up the stop we were supposed to make. Instead of stopping at 96th street, it went on, passing 103rd street, 110th street, 116th street, finally stopping at 125th. The jingly-haired girl and I were both relieved. We weren't any more in control of our destiny at that point. But as we waited assuredly for the next train downtown, we pretended we were.

Lessons Learned

Sometimes, the city surprises you. Whether it's a blowup doll sitting prone in the window of an apartment building you pass everyday, or the delivery of a brother in arms who sets you on the path to rightousness.

I joined a writing group to meet other writers and hopefully, find more writing discipline. At the first event, I found the bottom of two martini glasses. Since I had an almost empty stomach, it wasn't really a good scene. Is it a coincidence that no one I talked to at the last event made it to this one? I don't think so.

Anyway, at this evening's event, I met Mr. Corporate Whore, who toils away for an insurance company in Tarrytown. When I shared my challenges getting into a writing regimen, Mr. Corporate Whore took me to task. He urged me to write not because I felt like I should, but because I enjoy it. A good lesson.

In Search of The Real

The Boy and I went to see Passing Strange on Broadway Saturday night. I totally love love loved it, but The Boy was a little more non-plussed. Nevertheless, the real show was on the subway after. A homeless guy who deconstructed a meat on a stick, then threw the hunks of meat onto the seat next to him, and then picked at them as if they were a bowl of peanuts at a cocktail party. Then there were the hispanic teenagers who kept bending over and inadvertantly showing off their purple and orange grany panties hanging out the top of their low slung jeans. Finallly there was a pimp wannabe in a gray suit, red shirt and aviator sunglasses primping his reflection in the subway car windows, who, ultimately, gave us a little dancing with the stars action, tripping the light fantastic to his own personal soundtrack. Or perhaps just tripping.

Saturday Sightings

Set out for my weekly long run with The Little Nolita Lady, armed with camaraphone, should we see any interesting sights. We were almost home after an uneventuful run when we spied the actor Ron Rifkin of Alias fame at a restuarant on Madison Ave. We chose not to take a photo of him - too cheesy.

It's Official

It's official. I am tired of winter. Of wearing heavy coats and dark colored tights. My hands are desparate to be free of claustorphobic gloves. Spring! Release me!

Sunday In The Park

Did an early morning run with The Little Nolita Lady this morning. Here's what we saw:

1. A jogger juggling 3 red balls
2. A high school orchestra rehearsing in a small outdoor ampitheatre in the park
3. A priest handing out palm fronds for Palm Sunday
4. A woman leading a donkey in a Palm Sunday procession
5. A choir and bell ringers in same procession