A Chef

Location: Uptown B
Weather: humid, hot, rainy
Mood: good

I'm pretty sure this gent is a cook. Or a chef. I'm not really sure of the difference.




One time, I hears it was whether or not one attended culinary school, but I feel it might also have to do with one's position within the kitchen. Anyway, between his crocs and knife bag, probably works in a kitchen.

Writing on the train

Time: 2:04 pm
Location: downtown bound B
Weather: humid
Mood: headache




Man. I have a headache. I'm pretty sure that when a head hurts bad enough, it becomes a mood.




I saw these guys writing on the train today. I used to write on the train all the time. Not so much lately. I've been a little unproductive. This has been the longest stretch of non-writing I can recall. I actually have a mild jangle of nerves trying to start up again. Just like riding a bike. Like riding a bike.

Location:E 42nd St,New York,United States

Back on the Subway

Time: 9:47pm
Location: downtown bound D. Second to last car
Weather: humid
Mood: bit sleepy

Well, I'm sorta back. Figured I might as well continue throwing up pictures of strangers and talking about them.



I really like the color of this. Also, the d train was supposed to be running local tonight. But it doesn't seem like they are. Bastards. I kind of hate the MTA.

Location:E 61st St,New York,United States

Updating

Time: 1:04 AM
Location: 125th street AC station
Weather: Cold. Damn cold.
Mood: Good. Tired



It's been a bit of time since I've written. The new job has certainly been taking it's toll, and tonight marks the end of two weeks on my own sans supervision. I think I did okay. A few mistakes here and there.



A cop just came and removed a man from the platform. Not in a physical way, just walked down and asked the man something, then walked him up the stairs. I have headphones in, rocking out to the band The Whitest Boy Alive, so I'm not exactly sure what is going on. Drama! Woo!

Anywho, with the return of the boss, I'm hoping I can get a bit more done on my personal projects. I've really been neglecting the script I'm supposed to be writing for the musical. Tomorrow I'm really going to focus on it.

Okay, hoppin' on the train and heading home. Damn. Wrong train.



The kids waiting for their friend.

Adventures In The Post Office

Time: 1117
Location: Bushwick Post Office
Weather: Abnormally warm and sunny
Mood: Same as above




In order to facilitate my writing of a graphic novel, I ordered a few books from Amazon.com, but the package was too large to fit through the mail slot at home, meaning I had to venture to the post office to pick it up.

I don't like my post office. There's always a line of people, most of them are very vocal about complaining, but I can throw in my earbuds and wait with musical aplomb. Today, however, one woman came in exceptionally upset because the postal worker who delivers her mail only delivers the odd side of the street when her disability check is cut meaning it takes her an extra day to get her money. Apparently she comes to the post office every month to, "raise sand to get her money."

Today, she went from ringing the bell and asking to see a supervisor to jangling her keys in the metal tray and yelling for someone to see her to verbally assaulting the postal workers and saying she wished she had a smoke bomb to throw through the window, capping it off by saying she wanted to find a door to the back so she could kick it down and spit in all their dumb faces because it's the moat disgusting thing you can do.

Though tempted to stay and watch the police come for her, but I decided it was more important to get to work...

The Stories Of Their Lives

Time: 9 and change AM
Location: uptown A train
Weather: cold but clear
Mood: discombobulated


I hope I'm not the only one who does this, watching and analyzing the people around me, my brain makes up their stories, regardless of my desire. My classmate James was keen on saying that humans will overlay meaning on random events, that we had no real choice in the matter. We try and make stories.

It makes sense. In many ways, one could explain a lot of religion that way. All anthropomorphism.

But me, I make up their lives. I make snap judgements (which I realize are most likely incorrect, but I do it anyway...).

Is this a product of writing? Of creating? Or does everyone play this game?



The blonde in the foreground was escorted on the train by an older man who acted rather strangely. Part of me wanted to say theirs was a prostitute-John situation, but ultimately it didn't quite fit. She wasn't jaded enough, she seemed more prone to being intrigued with the world around her, and also a little unsure of where she was. I decided she's new to the city, having come from an eastern European country. She's a modern mail order bride, and when the man knocked on the window to tell her "three" he was telling her how many dresses he wanted her to buy today.

Anyway... Glimpse into my fevered brain. Mail order brides fascinate me, and perhaps I'll look I to that next.

Frustration Station

Time: 1034
Location: A train to Bed Stuy
Weather: rainy. Cold
Mood: frustrated

Okay, so, tonight was a rough one in some respects. So, some of you may know that I recently accepted a full time job with a theatre in Northern Manhattan (read Harlem), and while I was very excited, the commute is getting me down. An hour, or more, each way. The biggest issue has been waiting for the train. At times, I've waited longer for a train than riding it... Maybe I'll go buy a car...

In other news, I have developed this voyeuristic desire to take pictures if couples on the subway, especially in this quad camera format in order to view their interactions over time. Here's a sequence:


















Cute. People over time. What particularly interests me is how people move and when they move. I know it seems like they just closer and more cuddly, but these pictures are spread out over the journey from the Village to Bed Stuy, and there are quite a few where the couple just doesn't move. At all. Staring straight ahead into nothingness. But there's the comfort there, this sense of physical closeness and a capability to enjoy another's body. They also never said a word while they were on the train. I admit to being a bit incredulous about the girl, she seems disconcertingly young. But I find it hard to accurately judge the age of anyone, especially females.

NYC Horror Fest Par-Tay of Horror!

Time: 1125
Location: the F train. En route to Manhattan
Weather: cold and wet, but muggy underground
Mood: cranky with gusts of bleh

Last night was the opening night party for the New York City Horror Film Festival. I attended the event, and I had a pretty good time. I met some really interesting people from all walks of life, including David Cross who is looking very beardy these days, and if the tears in his eyes were any indication, he's not a fan of bottom shelf tequila. Only the best for Mr. Cross.

The party was fashionably late, the doors opening almost an hour into the free beer hour. It's an interesting change to have the party late instead of the guests. BLVD, the venue, is a very swanky place. I can see why it's an in demand club location. Strategically placed booths, beautiful bartenders, and that magic combination of dance floor and bar where neither overpowers the space.

The live bands were pretty good, but I was looking forward to Witches in Bikinis (yes, a band). However, due to the late start, their drummer bailed and when I left, they had yet to go on, and it wasn't likely they would be going on...

If any of you are in the NYC area, this festival has some great things in store. I will be there most nights this week, hoping to get my socks scared off.

Oh, and best of luck to my new friend Nathan Cox who's film premieres tonight.

Now: