This should be a short post, because I should focus my time and energy on doing something productive like drinking beer and finishing my application for a playwriting group.
Usually weird stuff happens when it's a full moon. Well really everyone, especially customers at the restaurant I work at act all crazy like they've just been released back into society. The full moon happened last week. I heard rumblings that a meteor shower happened last night, so I'll chalk what I saw and heard up to that. Hale-Bopp all over again.
A friend that I work with told me a bizarre story about a homeless lady pulling various items out of a newspaper stand. You know, the free newspaper bins lined up all over the place. I'm not even going to go into detail on it because it's not my story and a blog is nowhere near the ideal platform of which to present it. At one point she pulled out a plate of food and an unopened bottle of wine. Yeah. I swear it must have been some sort of performance art thing.
I got out of work around 10, which is early compared to the past month or so when I'm lucky to be out by 11:30 on a Wednesday. The ride downtown was uneventful. There was a large number of MTA employees waiting on the platform, waiting to clean (I think) staring at everyone, that was somewhat unsettling. Once I got to Union Square it got all old school New York. I had to pretty much step over a guy, laying on the platform, I think still alive. He couldn't have been older than 35, he had a cane laying ten inches away from him. His face was red and looked blistered. Two female MTA employees stood over him, indifference washed over their faces. I'm assuming they were waiting for paramedics to come...although I had to wonder how the paramedics would know to come since neither appeared to have a walkie-talkie or other wireless communication device on them. I've seen plenty of homeless people passed out on the sidewalk, but it's obvious that they're just that-passed out. This dude wasn't moving, but his eyes were open. I had a train to catch. Then, as I'm going up the stares there's a man in front of me. I just realized I typed "stares" instead of "stairs" which is what I did. Stare. One of this man's legs was wrapped around a cane-like device, but it was long enough to use as a crutch. I couldn't comprehend why he wouldn't amputate a leg that appeared to have no bones and just hung there...that it needed to be wrapped around a cane. The guy could move though, which makes me assume he's been dealing with that for awhile. The only reason I felt it necessary to write about it was that I witnessed to things I never had before, and I can only feel bad for the two men.
This air in the city felt different to me tonight. No rhyme or reason for it. And to witness two seemingly insignificant things as I did, I don't know. There has to be meaning in it all, right? Or is the lack of meaning the point? Two other strange things that happened tonight, insignificant to everyone but myself...a found out someone's e-mail address appears to no longer exist. Would love to hear from you. And when all hope was lost, you actually did find me, now what to do next... Vague, meaningless, confusing, yes. That's what August 12th, 2009, was to me.
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