This post sponsored by Pathmark

1) Mrs. Ottey's attempts to foist further tripe upon me were futile.

My adamance was rewarded
...with nourishing ox-tail soup and dumplings.

[[ Should be ignored:
2) Which is perhaps much to say
to play on the field, to lat [lay] there
to splay Um, Here, Um,
we are who we've been waiting for.
Dumb bitten lunches of thoughts. ]]

3) On my way to PathMark I saw lots of things, notably trash collected in crenelated dumptrails on the ground; strewn about cleverly, almost ironically; completely without merit were all these observations. Passed the Rutgers "projects" to my left that line the East River. ("Projects" is a loaded term... I felt safe. Unnecessary self-reflection: My beard makes me look pretty though, though.) Thought I had gone the wrong direction. Kept going. Was rewarded. PathMark. A huge real supermarket. I will go there again. I bought water purified (by reverse osmosis OR distillation) because I don't want to drink POISON. Specifically fluoride. Fuck fluoride. Fuck it in the face. I got milk, cheese, some disgusting "cheddar flavor rice crisps" and "FRS: healthy energy," which contains quercetin. What I really wanted was Red Bull because I was feeling drowsy after two beers and it's been adeptly marketed to me as something that will "wake you up."

On the way home my eyes revisited a tree by a housing project. It has a large blanket of some kind in it that looked like a person. Smaller constellations of other plastic bags and remnants like ornaments. Made me think of this story about the kids who slept in Central Park.

When I got home I drank a little of the FRS energy drink. Eh... not good. Not terrible, maybe, but not good. It smells like what your urine would smell like if you ate and drank apple pulp for a day. This is an educated guess. As usual, then, my shopping trip wasn't with errors. But I have to mistakes to learn. It's the only way I operate. How do you operate?

Pathmark.

Thoughts walking around (30 Aug 2010)

Walking through Chinatown today I had some thoughts. First of all I am a minority here. It's good to feel this way. (Of course... the goddam ubiquitous qualifier) You can take everything I say with a pinch of salt but Westerners (and those Easterners who duly dwell here (there, yonder, south, fuck these labels)) get too much sodium to begin with. The point: I'm a minority at least in Chinatown, Manhattan. Since I'm a white American of European heritage I'm usually the majority. It's good to have a break from that... identity. I really don't want to be linked to what so many people like myself have done. What do I have in common with those Europeans-of-old? Does the connection mean anything at all? Walking around here it usually doesn't feel like it. More generally in NYC people don't stare at you longer than an instant (unless they have one of the usual reasons for looking longer, like you might remind them of somebody they know, they like your looks, etc... wrestling with the unknown here). So I'm basically anonymous. And I have to be honest: I can't get enough of it, at least for now. I don't really want to be known most of the time, now. Obviously I aspire to do great things and forge great relationships with amazing people, which will make me not always anonymous. But by and large there are so many people here from such different backgrounds, they have seen a lot. And one of the only "rules" that seems to be a rule here, really just a convention is what I mean, is that it is not chill to stare or single people out. The mass is just the mass, like a river, not pointing to itself, just flowing.

One exception: at least two of the cashiers at the convenience/deli/ballsack across the street call me "Boss." I don't like it. They are of some Mid East heritage (what do I know?) and it feels like they are singling me out for being "those boss," "the man," whatever. Both times so far I have been wearing my (new) glasses, so maybe that makes me look more "professional." So really I don't think it's very much racial, but is maybe economic. Whatever. More observation is obviously needed. 

During my walk I made it halfway across the Manhattan bridge. The very cement and filaments of the living bridge shudder every time the train goes by. I believe it was built in 1901 but I could be wrong. It's old. Could not help but think what would happen if the bridge broke and fell. If I was over the water, would I be okay? Assuming nothing landed on top of me, of course. My guess is that I'd be pretty hurt, almost certainly broken bones and absurd bruising, etc... but if I landed on my feet, I'd live... once again assuming I'd be intact enough to float... or swim... to shore. Chill.