This spot has taken on some kind of meaning to me. It’s where I sit most workday morning, for about 45 minutes, typing forgettable accounts of the previous days’ adventures and heroics. At this time I am recording the sound of the air conditioner next to me. Perhaps I will include the audio depending how it comes out.
I installed a toilet seat on Sunday. No, the accomplishment was greater than that. I removed the old one first, then installed the new. I am a hero. The new shitter seems to be a fraction of an inch wider, so it feels like I’m a little lower to the water. But it’s not enough of a difference that I would have trouble getting used to it. The most troubles I have in doing #2 is on longer seats, where my sometimes half-hard boner needs to be manually suppressed to avoid peeing straight ahead. That does not happen at home, on the smaller size seat.
On the subway today I tried looking at people. Not staring. Just assaying the humans around me. Surface assumptions seem unavoidable:
She is poor. He is trying to get a clean start after a criminal past. She is young and wealthier than all 100+ humans in this subway car. He is reading from a small book containing handwritten words in a language I do not recognize. A man, 200+ pounds, sports facial hair that he seems to think makes him a conqueror of all genders and creeds. Sartorial flourishes are interesting, too. Who chooses to wear crocs and short socks on a cold day? Shoes are everything to some people. The end of their body is the beginning of their identity, the foundation of how they feel about themselves. I, for one, should give up on the athletic sandals in cold weather. I like the shoes. They suit my need for clamp and exhaust by fitting tight but feeling loose. I wear thermal socks in the colder months. They work well. I see a lot of people wear the type of shoes I wore in high school. I don’t remember the brand or what they’re called. I think I got them at Fayva. Half boot half shoes, red and white, mostly, with maybe a few streaks of black. I got comments on those shoes back in the 80s. Now I see people everywhere wearing them now. EVERYWHERE.
Today I stood for the full duration of the 5 train ride from 59th Street to Fulton. Most of the time I stood in front of a small Asian woman, facemask on, her eyes closed most of the way. Sleepy and thus emitting no sign of character or personality. Just getting somewhere to do a job and go back home. Three seats over from her a tall black man inexplicably stood up, giving up his seat for no obvious reason. He was not exiting the train, nor did he give any signal that he was chivalrously ceding his seat to an older person or a young child. Dude just felt like standing, I guess. A gesture made complicated not just by its unexpectedness but by the very crowded condition in the car. He didn’t seem insane or scheming. Just felt like standing when seats were precious commodities.
