Ok fuck it all. Why haven't I been writing a single scrap of a thing more interesting than truck tires? It's this rule I made awhile back to avoid two subjects: work and specific people. I avoid work for all the obvious reasons. Rephrasing, the obvious one reason: getting fired. And even barring the old drying up and withering away of paychecks, explaining to confused coworkers why I'm a weirdo that likes to write about what i snacked on at the last party has grown too tedious.

The specific people reason is also easy. It's that pretty much that no one's happy with what you say about them. Even if you think it's the nicest thing. And lately, I'm sitting here (and there, and there, and way over there) thinking about the new boy. That's right, The New Boy. There's this new boy that's got all of me all giddy and nervous and sometimes wanting to pick a fight. And I'd like to write a long sappy funny post about the new boy. Though to be fair, he isn't exactly new. In fact he's the oldest boy in my repertoire. Well, oldest is misleading because he's only a month and 7 days older than me. And that part's misleading because he's by no means the oldest boy I've ever had shaking my cocktails. But he was The First Boy a long long time ago. And it wasn't that long ago, but it sure feels that way.

And so even with that set up I can't think of what I ought to say about the whole thing thing. But don't get discouraged, I can't think of what to say to myself about it either. I never thought that it would get far enough to be considered as as a subject of blog postings. Something will materialize.

Setting that aside, today I had a few appointments in Manhattan and it was one of those days when the light just kills you: when the cold and the clouds and the intruding sun conspire to remind you why the undeserving city holds your heart in its dirty hands.

I got of the train at Union Square and started walking uptown on Broadway which was cloudy but for a brilliant light illuminating the Empire State Building. And then I looked downtown and could feel the ugly imposing world trade center missing. So the block just stretched endlessly. Which always reminds me of something I read a long ago. Something about Sartre ruminating on the grid of NYC. He said the grid was perfect for the attitude of Americans where you could look up and down 7th avenue and never see the end, where the possibilities were limitless. Unlike the narrow, winding, and dead-end streets of Europe. Now I'm second guessing if it was Sartre who said that or someone else... but either way on clear days when the avenues stretch endlessly I always think of that, even though to be honest I don't really buy it.