…after watching the younger child kick the evil mastermind up the butt of the space pig… I decided to write instead.
Good morning world. Pleasantville, NY is once again Living up to its name. It’s a Saturday morning and I’m watching a child play some sort of bizarre animated game that reminds me of Earthworm Jim in its play style an frenetic whimsy. Beautiful music (including a flamenco version of “Eye of the Tiger”) stylized and strange violence, dragons and lasers. You know… kids’ stuff. It’s a welcome respite from the angers and frustrations of the world. An idiot online trying to see if anyone “they trust” will tell them that Castro is dead on Facebook…. Because they are one of those 20% of Americans that get their news solely from social media.
Last night we went to see Zoe Keating. A couple of adventures all rolled into one. Not only were we going to see a spectacular cello-playing loop artist, but we were taking a train to get there. I LOVE trains! Not only were we taking a train, but we were taking the train to the subway! It’s an UNDERGROUND train! Not only were we taking the subway, but we were taking, like, THE subway! The New York City Subway! And we’d get to hit up Grand Central Station! Which is GRAND! And CENTRAL! And we got to see thousands of anti-Trump post-its, which aren’t going to get anything done, but were quite powerful to see. And we got to wander a bit of New York, and wander back out again. I think we suffered a bit of sensory overload, so very many people.
Sex and the City and Heather both agree, that all the most beautiful people are in New York City. I beg to differ. I think it’s more that you see SO MANY people that the percentages are greater. Stunningly beautiful humans wandering the underground warrens of the New York Subway. But also evidences of ugliness. People begging for change with weeping sores on their faces. Underground humans falling through the cracks. Tight spaces that would no longer be built in our ADA accessible world. Keep your balance and don’t get fat if you want to survive here. It’s claustrophobic and damp and hot like you’re breathing the exhalations of thousands upon thousands of throats… which we were.
Our timing was perfect – coming in things were inordinately crowded, but perhaps not overwhelmingly rush-hour crowded. Coming out the crowds were thinned and you could actually slow down and witness the strange, worn grandeur surrounding us. A hundred year-old train station – almost a hundred and fifty years old… it seems somewhat unimaginable that this place has existed for so long, the tile and the grime… you wander into Grand Central and the smells are vibrant and shocking after the oil and human stink of the train tunnels, suddenly being enveloped by bakery smells, wafting that away and surrounded by the scents of meats and spices, and then that’s whirled away to be replaced by a cloud of sugar – climbing back to the surface where the shockingly cold air stinks of exhaust and urine.
Ah, New York City.
In other news – I believe the child just beat the game, and that it ended by her kicking the tiny entity controlling the big gigantic steampunk metallo-worm off the Earth and into the butt of some sort of star pig, where the poor guy is stuffed into a crater in some kind of bizarre Hell moon where tiny devils torture him with pitchforks dancing to techno. I am concerned about the cosmology here.
