Tangent (Early 2006)

I am sitting on a bench in a cold, gray subway station. In a few minutes I will catch the L train to Bedford Avenue, where I will walk into work. Once there, I will walk to the back, roll some silverware, drink some wine, clean a table or two and try to kill time for five hours. Then I will go home. On the way home I will think of things to write. New York is filled with people who all pretend the other people aren't there. Any given day, the average New Yorker will encounter over 100 people and will have conversations, or eye contact, with less than 2 of them. At least that has been my experience withing the last 3 weeks. Millions of people surrounded by millions of other people pretending not to notice each other. Too much stimulation. Thats why tourists get overwhelmed. And New Yorkers get frustrated with the overwhelmed tourists. Thats why I can't go into Upper Manhattan unless I feel like being smothered with dirty jackets, shit-scented screaming babies and old women. I try to be optimistic. I've been pretty good about it so far. Only one real panic attack. I wonder how long I can handle it.