When Worlds Collide

Oh to be self-invloved! I dare to ask, “Who can help tuning out the rest of the world?” Ignoring the noise and most of the people is part of the New Yorker’s evolutionary process. We walk like roadrunners; we tune out the trucks, the traffic, and the occasional outspoken vagrant.

It’s should be no surprise then when, this morning, I forgot that I was still in my own world while I was waiting for the stinky subway. Next to me was swaying an attractive businessman sans ring who, like me, was impatiently expecting to hop on the next train. He was clean cut, tucked in, and probably engaged. I said, “God, he is cute.” The only problem: my world just happened to overlap with everyone else’s reality, and he heard it; he heard it all. This is a reasonable assumption given that he was staring at me when I said it. There’s just no way either us missed that moment.

Naturally, I reached for the salvation of the twenty-first century: the cell phone. I pretended to call someone, forgetting that no one has reception underground, not even God. It was early. Who can play off anything except foul breath before lunch? I was mortified.

These days, I’m spending more time than can be safe repairing my world. It’s easy for me to forget that others are teeming on the streets of this city. Even easier to forget is the fact that others may also be at “uncomfortable” places in their lives. While I’d like to think that everyone else’s life has to be going better than mine, this isn’t always the case.

They say that misery loves company. I dunno about that. Lately, I’ve just wanted to be alone. I’m getting over it slowly. I’ve been to Hell’s Kitchen twice in four days. I’m off to the East Village again tonight. Dominique’s visiting from Austin, and she loves the Boiler Room. We may even stop in at the Pyramid Club, my personal favorite.

Autumnal activities are getting me out into the chilliness for which I have pined all summer and most of the spring. I think it all has something to do with the position of the earth. Today, we’re halfway between the equinox and the winter solstice. The days are dark and short; the dead are being remembered. Ironically, I feel an odd connection to life, to liveliness. This is what I like about New York. It’s a place where multiple worlds converge all in good (and sometimes embarrassing) fun.