Saturday, April 21, 2007

Blue Skies

It was a very nice day to-day. The number 1 train conductor kept reminding us: “enjoy your weekend everybody nothing but blue skies . . . .” People smiled. I was on my way to a bit of a Heidegger conference at New School University. The middle-aged Mongol woman across from me in dark blue tinted Gucci sunglasses kept telling Russian secrets to her Russian friend who had artfully dyed orange-red hair in the Russian manner. The Mongol woman was clutching a Cyrillic script newspaper – yes, for those of you who are curious, Mongolia abandoned their originally Uyghur script for political reasons in the 1930s. A homeless man came through shaking a Styrofoam cup of loose change – “any loose change?” he asked. His suspiciously infected-looking parka made people squirm as he leaned on the overhead rail and scooted along scraping their laps clean. A little girl with six pink flower tipped braids sat on her baggie of Ritz crackers. “Look mommy, I smashed them!” she chuckled. Her mom ignored her.

The sky was gloriously blue at 2 in the afternoon. I stepped out of the 1 train stop at 14th street past a vacant bed in the stairwell into the unwavering stares of dozens of tourists positioned like sunning iguanas on the tops of red double-decker buses on the double-decker bus conveyer belt that snakes its way incredibly through Manhattan. The ridiculous buses were pushed by the siren of a firetruck trapped behind them and past cherry trees in full bloom. I wove my way through Greenwich Village weirdos with a smile.



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