Ground Zero

So I took a cab Downtown to Ground Zero the other day and the driver instantly got into a monologue, reflecting on 9/11...

Man that day was crazy, you know? I was in Queens and you just see people crying down the street, you know? We just rushed to the nearest TV trying to find out what's going on, then you just see the smoke come across the river and you know shit was going down. It's strange not to see them there any more, you know? Like the city sky line is just, it's just empty...

In the middle of the Financial District of the world there is a huge block fenced off, empty. It felt really strange being there on a beautiful holiday day - I have never been so close to such a tragic site. I walked around the empty block, trying to imagine the day as best as I could remember it from satellite images, piecing together the smoke, and the people, and the falling debris and the general chaos. It was the first time my stupid I'm-holidaying-in-New-York smile was wiped off.

I crossed the road to St Paul's Chapel, which should mean a lot to American history buffs and little to everybody else. I went there for a better vantage point to take photos from, but got sidetracked reading headstones and other items. The Bell of Hope, that was given to the USA by England after September 11, also lies here.

The walk up Broadway was beautiful - I passed through the tail-end of the Financial District and into the streets that turned the neighbourhood into SoHo. This has to be the fucking coolest neighbourhood I've ever walked through - not because of the designer stores and fancy restaurants, but because of the people - it felt like a fucking parade for the next two years' winter haute couture. And unlike Sydney's equivalent of Bondi and Paddington, these people were actually cool - no condescending looks, no stupid gym junkie walking, just a let it be mentality.

As I took in the sights I felt something brush my man-bag. I turned around to find a beautiful girl who blushed when I caught her. She apologised, smiled, looked all embarrassed, and just ran down the street. I didn't know what to think at first, so I checked my bag, found nothing had been stolen and sat down at a nearby cafe to stop and scold myself for the close encounter. And for not asking for her number.

On the taxi ride home I told my driver what happened...

Damn man, did you get her number?
Hhahaha, nah, she was running pretty fast...
That's the problem you know, these girls be working out and shit. Maybe she just wanted to give you a hand-job.
She needn't apologise for that
Hahha, I'll say. So hey have you checked out the Red Light district?

What is it with taxi drivers trying to pimp red-light areas anyway?

I just wanted to get back to my apartment to check out the city lights for another night.

Real Versus Ideal

These were his exact words as he tried to explain the situation to her. I'm not too sure what this meant to her, or if she even accepted his offer, but I knew exactly what he's talking about.

Landing in JFK on Christmas Day, after leaving Charles-Kingsford on Christmas Day, was strange. It didn't snow when I walked out with my suitcases, which was disappointing because I had an image of white flakes slapping my smiling face awake whilst I tried to light my first cigarette in New Yawk, New Yawk.

I got to meet T's boyfriend on the drive to Gramercy Park and I was relieved to find a cool and nice guy. I felt quite sorry for him when my parents, especially my Mum, decided to play good cop, bad cop with an hour-long interrogation at Red Lobster in Times Square. My Mum and Dad can be very intimidating people for their size.

The neighbourhood here is beautiful - the trees have shed their leaves for winter and the streets are swept clean by a cool breeze. On the face of every building there is a zig-zag of firestairs that run between floors and windows, and on the rooftops of these apartments old chimneys and ventilation exhausts are reaching to the sky. The people here keep to themselves, huddled in warm coats and gloves with coffee in hand and listening to their ipod. Flip-phones are definitely the flavour here, connected to a bluetooth earpiece, and they walk the streets talking to themselves.

I spent the afternoon on foot, passing through Chinatown, Soho and parts of Little Italy. Although each area had their distinct flavour, I found that for every two or three blocks, there is a park, usually on the corner of a block, or occupying a block itself. I spent time in Stuyvesant Park, watching a Father teach his Daughter how to ride a bike, squirrels eat nuts from a homeless man and a Jewish couple laughing about a text message. I thought that it would be much grittier or tougher around here, but it's not like I'm in the middle of Queens.

They absolutely love dogs around here, and I've seen all kinds with all types of different owners. Even at 1AM I came across at least five people walking their dog. I'm told that the most popular breed at the moment is a puggle - a cross between a pug and a beagle.

The Tyra Banks show is doing a special episode regarding breasts, so I can't think right now.

Coming Soon - M in Soho, Big Yellow Taxis, Ground Zero, The Plunger and my brush with a beautiful pickpocket.

Stay Tuned.

High

Last night I went for a drive with H and we were going down to our local dealer for stock. All of a sudden I was in High School all over again. But this time it wasn't for us - it was for his cousin who is here with twelve other friends on their Schoolies vacation. After the initial call for a twenty, she called back and asked if she could cancel the call because everybody in her group were too scared to hold on to it for the night. Amateurs.

Well, the more I think about it, the more cute it is. You know, like these reluctant rebels are a twelve hour drive away from home and celebrating their freedom and making the transition from teens to adults and all that shit but they are still worried that their parents will be there with their watchful eyes and shaking their head disapprovingly at their daughter's first cone.

Whilst enjoying my flat white and an article on junkies, and their stories in the wake of Katrina, I listened in to the headhunter sitting nearby. He had a smart suit and worn shoes and an open list of phone numbers with neat notes scribbled around each name. One by one he'd give his spiel and one by one he'd cross the names with disdain and frustration, knowing that the commission is still a long way away and Christmas is only two weeks away.

As this was happening in the background I read the story of Moe, who was shooting-up at the time of the hurricane, unaware that the world was literally spinning, and that it wasn't just induced by the injection. The most striking details were associated with his withdrawal symptoms as there was a four day drought for his next dose.

It's not that hard to sympathise, I guess. Nobody likes to wait too long to be happy.

Priceless Things

I'm trying to backtrack on what has made me a faithful believer in fate and the signs along the way that are pointing towards the 'right' direction. I don't know what it is that got me here, but I'm starting to realise now that it has made me really susceptible to suggestions from any stimuli. And it has also aided in helping me become more 'introspective' (read: selfish).

I watched Shopgirl tonight and was very impressed. I love these caustic romantic movies because they just seem so real to me - like Lost In Translation, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Punch Drunk Love. Why they seem real to me is another matter altogether, and I'm planning to save that rant for my future psychiatrist or good friend.

Anyway.

I guess the scene that really hit home was Mirabelle's decision on whether or not to postpone due payments to pain.

And, that's all I have to say about that.

I watched Citizen Kane the other night, too, feeling guilty and rather ashamed that I hadn't seen what many critics dub as the 'Best Movie of All Time'. I wasn't that impressed, to be honest, but was quite pleased to finally understand all the references I have encountered. It's a wonderful thing when light is shed on uncertain areas.

If you're interested, my Rosebud is Aboy.

Impressed by a website on case modifications, I spent the weekend tinkering with my computer. I decided to go for a geek chic case, complete with blue LED's and a lot of fans. I love the lightsabre blue glow that now emanates from the case, it gives it an aura. And aura's are cool. I wish I had an aura radiating from me - magnetic and vibrant. Is it because all the people I admire, and am impressed by, have it?

Another item to add to my wish list of things that money can't buy.