Most exciting news of the week for me: Soft Circle is opening up for The Sea and Cake at Warsaw. Yes!
My site is still kinda broken. This post is dated from when I started scribbling in it, but is definitely not today. In case you care, the cast thing has become less devastating as time has passed. I'm less bandaged (even though both feet are in the act now) and am back to wearing regularish shoes. It's gonna be a while before I can slip on anything with some height, though if you see me semi-normally, you know that's about par for the course except I can't if I wanted to. Instead, my stupid knee is the hobbling culprit. Oh the good times! My mother wasn't kidding when she said you fall apart rapidly after 25.
Life at the new mothership is pretty rad so far. Minus my hideous ID photo in which I'm frozen for posterity as a bewildered 12-year old with a fat neck. I've been obsessing over that quite a bit.And also last.fm which I just got my shit together and joined. (Please ignore the random Goo Goo Dolls songs sprinkled in. Thanks.)
And now for a story: some weeks ago, I went to see the Battles show at the Seaport. It was one of the few summer early Fridays I had managed to take advantage of and I'd had a nice nap at home before coming back out. I spent most of the show squeezed against a storefront while random packs of tourists went back and forth from booze cruises and the Water Taxi, but I had a pretty good viewing angle and the sound was great. After the show, I wandered further downtown away from the mass hipster stampedes and had a nice burrito at Chipotle before grabbing the J.
Across the aisle were some drunkie girls that seemed like a bit clueless college girls and at Fulton, this random dude got on. From the start, he made me uncomfortable practically boring a hole into my head with his eyes. I was sure not to make eye contact and not squirm. But when he responded to the drunkies' goodbye at Bowery with "goodbye you stupid sluts!," dude got upgraded to crazy fast.
The teenager across from me eyed him nervously out of the corner of the eye. New York kids' reactions are always along the lines of "is this motherfucker gonna lose it or what?" and it reinforced my feelings of uneasiness. A pretty woman on a date sat next to me and chatted with her guy and the man across eyed us both like steaks on a plate. She got off at Marcy and he whispered something in her direction before sitting down next to me.
I dug up courage somewhere and eyed the side of his head icily as he made a production of removing his headphones to talk to me. He turned to me and said "are you going to keep looking at me like that?"
"Yes," I replied, in a stronger voice than I expected.
"Because I'm wondering why you're sitting next to me."
"It's a public transportation, sweetheart," oozed the bastard.
"Okay, that's fine. I'll move then." And I got up to wander halfway down the car. Sometimes I wonder what's the point of being in the conductor's car if it doesn't make you feel an ounce safer.
He eyed me the whole time I walked and stood in the doorway and then when I sat at Lorimer. I refused to look and when I rushed off at Flushing, my heart beating in my ears drowned out what he yelled after me. I walked to the newest non-local local eying the sidewalk behind me every other step. Sometimes people are crazy and you'll never know what they'll do. My night was ruined from there. I haven't taken that train since.