It’s really, really hot here in the big bad city. What makes things worse is that my apartment air conditioning system consists of me standing naked in front of a box fan after I take a shower.
There are times when I’m glad I live by myself.
On any given day here in NYC, I will come across at least one person whose mortality status I have to wonder about; in other words, at least once a day I will see someone and think to myself “Is he dead or just asleep?”
Usually, it’s a haggard-looking guy passed out on a subway car. The day before yesterday, it was a homeless person lying in the doorway to my apartment building. This morning, it was a man lying in the middle of the sidewalk.
I like to think of myself as a decent person, and I’d like to think that I care about the wellbeing of other people. I’d also like to tell you all that I’m a hero and I always check on these people to make sure that they’re okay. But I don’t. I glance at the passed-out guy on the subway and get off at my stop without giving him a second thought; he’s probably trying to catch up on his sleep. I try to disturb the person lying in the doorway as little as possible because he’ll probably get pissed off if I try and wake him. And the guy lying in the middle of the sidewalk? 3 other people are standing nearby, so I’m sure one of them must have checked on him.
Several weeks ago, there was a story on the news about a man who had been lying dead in a subway car for 10 hours before anyone noticed. People from outside of NYC asked, “How could no one notice a dead man sitting there? How could something like this happen?” My response: “Very easily.”
When you’re surrounded by this many people on a daily basis, you have to learn how to not see them. New York City is full of all sorts of people: interesting people, boring people, crazy people, smart people, dumb people, weird people. But mostly, it’s just full of people and with this many of them running around, it’s impossible to acknowledge them all without losing your mind. It’s nothing personal - just a survival mechanism.
I don’t think I’ve ever ignored this many people - dead or asleep - in my life.
I got my shots. I now have pure hepatitis flowing through my veins. By the power of Greyskull, I have the power.
I went to get a medical checkup last Friday. The doctor gave me a clean bill of health, but added “If you’re sexually active, I recommend you get vaccinated against hepatitis A and B.”
I didn’t want my doctor to think that I was a huge loser so I lied: “Yeah, I’m totally sexually active. You’d better vaccinate me against hepatitis C, D, E… hell, just give me shots for the entire hepatitis alphabet.”
Now I have to go back to the doctor on Thursday so he can stab me with some needles. The moral of the story: lying to people will get you stabbed. On the bright side, soon I will no longer have to worry about people attacking me with buckets full of hepatitis.
The subway system here in New York City often smells like urine, yet I have yet to witness anyone actually peeing there. I’ve seen people pee in other places - street corners, parks, sidewalks - but not in the place from where the constant smell of urine emanates.
And just to clarify, I have no desire to watch another person actually pee in public; this was just something I noticed today.
This morning I dreamt that I was standing around, minding my own business when a cobra just suddenly appeared. “Cool,” I thought, “a cobra.” Then it bit me right below the left kneecap. “Shit. Aren’t these things poisonous?”
I looked up and saw my older brother was standing there. He reached out and grabbed the cobra while I picked up a nearby samurai sword and hacked the cobra’s head off.
And that’s how the dream ended. I guess I died since I didn’t get medical treatment for the snakebite. Stupid cobra.
Today I decided to push my water boiling abilities to the limit: not only did I make macaroni and cheese, I also cooked up some broccoli… AT THE SAME TIME.
The result - culinary awesomeness.
I woke up this morning and got dressed for work. As I tied my shoes, I had the distinct feeling that something was missing. I looked down and noticed that I had neglected to put on my pants.
Stupid mornings.
In case anyone was wondering, here’s the view that awaits you should you ever find yourself staring out through the window of my apartment.
In other news, I feel the intense desire to blog about something but I seem to be drawing a blank. Perhaps if I keep typing, something will come to mind.
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!@#$%^&*()_+
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Uh…
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Perhaps not.
