On Sunday, late afternoon, I was out walking my dog. Normal Sunday in the City, it was a little warm so I was in shorts, and I had on my Tottenham Hotspur t-shirt that my wife and kid got me for Father’s Day last year.
As I got to the corner to cross the street, a guy was coming across towards me. He stuck out a finger, pointing directly at me, which made me think, “Oh god, here comes a crazy person.” Then he yelled at me;
“C’mon You Spurs!”
He smiled at me, and just kept walking.
It took me a second to realize that he wasn’t crazy. He was a Spurs fan, calling out to another Spurs fan.
But you see, as I already told you, I had thought in my mind that this dude was crazy, so my brain didn’t register exactly what he was saying to me. It was like I heard just a jumble of sounds that I was trying to ignore. And then it hit me, “That guy didn’t say something crazy!” But I wasn’t sure what he said, so I had to play it back over in my mind – “C’mon You Spurs!” That’s when my head kicked into gear and was like, “He’s a Tottenham fan! He’s Saying that because of your shirt, you big dummy!” And what I said back to the guy was:
“Hey! Yeah! That’s right!” Sometimes I amaze myself at my ability to express myself so clearly and concisely.
I had two conflicting thoughts in my head as Trump’s New York False Records case got underway; first was that Trump won’t be found guilty, and second was that this was the case Trump was most likely to be found guilty on. Yes, I was able to circle this square in my mind. First was just past behavior, as Trump always found a way to weasel out of accountability. Second was that this case was about having sex and trying to hide it. Not that everyone cheats on their wife, but everyone does something wrong and tries to make it go away. The motive and emotions of committing this crime are easy to understand, which makes it an easy story for the prosecution to sell a jury on. Now, I did think there would be one hold out juror, especially from that person who said on their jury form that they got their news from TruthSocial. But I was wrong, and I’m okay with that.
And with the guilty verdict, does it even matter? I don’t know. I don’t think the verdict will cause a mass exodus from Trump’s camp come November. But I do think this verdict could peal off 10,000 soft Trump voters, or voters who are still on the fence in the swing states, and help Biden out. I have a hard time believing that Americans would elect a convicted felon, yet I know that we do live in the age when anything is possible. Even really really awful terrible shit is possible now.
When I walked out of my apartment on Tuesday morning, it was an overcast and drizzly day, which felt appropriate for having to move my car for the street sweeper, as Alt Side Parking is one of my least favorite “New York” things that I have to do, sometimes twice a week. The closer I got to my car, I noticed that the car parked behind me had their back window smashed out. “That sucks,” was my first thought. And then I saw my car…
“This really sucks,” was my next thought.
And though I knew that my whole day just got shot to shit, I wasn’t that upset. I called my insurance company, and got that process started. A woman came up to my car and told me that she also got her back window smashed in (four cars total got broken into) and she just called the cops who were on the way. I texted my wife and let her know what had happened, and she was pretty annoyed.
My insurance put me in contact with a window replacement company, and I was making arrangements with them when the cops rolled up. Clearly, most people don’t put the glass people on hold, because when I told him I needed to speak to the police, he seemed annoyed with me. Anyway, I was raised that when the cops show up, you talk to them right away.
The police took a statement from me, said they were sorry for the situation, and wanted to know if anything was stolen. A cooler bag, I said. That worth anything, the cop asked. No, it was an old cooler bag, I answered. So nothing was stolen, the cop finished. Nothing was stolen, I agreed. The cops were nice, but I think we all knew that there wasn’t anything they could do, but I appreciate the effort.
I called the glass people back, and made arrangements for them to come replace the window on Wednesday. I went to the hardware store on the block and got some duct tape and plastic to cover up the window. The wife came out and helped me with it. Not our best work, but it would do.
Then it really started raining.
Then the glass people called back saying that they had to reschedule because of the three days of rain we were about to get. How does Friday afternoon sound, they asked. Not good, I said. We’ll see you on Friday afternoon, they told me.
Then I got annoyed. Not with the glass people, because logically I get it. You can’t replace windows in the rain, as coming out to your car is their whole business. What I was annoyed at was that somehow having to reschedule made me feel like I wasn’t in control of this situation anymore.
Then I checked on the plastic over the widow to find out that our “not the best work”, in fact, was regular “bad” work; Water was getting in the car.
Then I really felt powerless. Three days of rain, water getting into the car, and the new window won’t show up until Friday afternoon.
Luckily, I have a wife who can fight through my annoyance and powerlessness, when it occasionally happens to me, and found a nearby parking garage for the car to sit in for the next three days. Which is smart and makes sense, and though costs us some money, at least the car is staying dry.
And through all of this, my annoyance and having my day thrown off, I never thought about the person who broke into my car. I never felt anger at this faceless person, or entertained feelings of wanting to get revenge, and any angsty questions of “why did this have to happen to me?”
This whole thing feels like stepping in dog shit. This sucks, and I have to clean up my shoes, but it happens from time to time.
It’s a month early, but it’s Spring in New York. Things are becoming green and flowers are coming out, and trees look like they are about to bud as well. I haven’t worn a scarf or my winter coat in a week, though I think it is premature to pack them away for the season. Each season change has its own magic and quirks, but Spring has one of my favorites which is the “Super Optimistic” person. You can identify them because they’re the person who dresses like it’s 85 out, when it’s actually 65. Shorts, tank top, and flip flops. I respect their desire for warmer weather, and their disregard for reality.
What happened to all those DJ’s that used to be in rock bands? In the late 90’s, seemed like everyone was adding a DJ to their line up. Just wondering what happened to them.
I don’t know if you know this, but it is official, New York City has a new scent. The Official Odor of NYC is “Pot Smoke.” It’s hard to believe that the former scent was dethroned, but “Rotting Garbage” had been the champ since 1624, so it was due.
I got to do something last night with my daughter that I have been looking forward to for years. We went to a presentation of four works-in-progress puppet shows. The venue was Dixon Place down in the Lower East Side, and the showing was part of their Puppet Blok series. And, it was a school night, so this was a very special occasion. My daughter got to experience the world of puppets that I had been in, and meet some of the people I have been working with for over 15 years.
The kid has known since forever that puppetry was the “thing” that I did in New York, but for most of the time when she thought of Dad and puppets, she was thinking “Muppets.” Slowly, as she’s grown, and I have shown her videos, and pictures of the type of work I was involved in. Some of it was traditional puppets, and some of it was mime, and other shows were more about movement and physical theatre. I never did marionettes because that is a hard skill to hone, and those guys are crazy.
Last night, the kid got to have her first experience in seeing what it was that her father did. And I was especially happy that we chose last night because two good friends were showing their work, and both of them are very talented women who I have worked for. I wanted my daughter to see women being themselves, out front, creating art, and leading their projects.
I was also a little nervous that the kid would get bored with the show. I learned a while ago that just because something is important to me, doesn’t mean it will be important to her. I’m not looking for her to want to become an artist or a performer. I just would like for her to have an appreciation of the arts, and the creative process. And works at this stage can be rough, very much “in progress,” and still a ways from a final form.
But I needn’t have been concerned. She got it. She was into it. She was a great audience member as well. All four of the pieces engaged her, and lead her not to ask a bunch of questions, but to tell me how each piece made her feel. At the talk back after the show, she was a little shy to give her comments, but she whispered them to me, and I spoke up for her. Yeah, she got it.
And it was a late night. We were riding the D train home, and she snuggled up next to be with her show program in her hand. I’m pretty sure she had a good time. I got what I wanted, which was to share a part of me with the kid.
