I have written before about how for me living in New York City is like being in a backlot musical - That kind of feeling of walking down the street and knowing someone is going to break into a song about newspapers or bagels and people then jeté off the landings of brownstones. I am afraid to find it a poem as well at the risk of getting all Carrie Bradshaw derivative. But hell, if I do, I say they hire me to promote the film. Nonetheless, it was great that a woman at work told me that she never felt the way I do about New York. I loved hearing that because it made me feel that my feelings were honest and mine.
Always wanted to write a play or movie with this title. Loved the sign as well.
It was another sunny, glorious cool Spring day as I lifted the blinds to the morning and made my coffee. More buds are creeping onto the trees and more daffodils are appearing in flowerboxes. The winter is over and we are entering a season in New York that is completely new to me. I had an appointment around Union Square (ever notice how having "an appointment" or even moreso "a procedure" always sounds mysterious and a little cloak and dagger mixed with shame?)
Now I just made it worse. You are focused on my appointment rather than the Spring day. It was really nothing. It wasn't therapy. It wasn't a dalliance. I didn't have anything removed, I didn't have anything injected and I didn't donate anything or sell anything to buy heroin. But I am still not going to say. It's a secret.
Spring, people, back on Spring. Where was I? On my way to Union Square right. I passed by this taxi driver fixing the Puerto Rican flag to the top of his taxi. I didn't think their parade was right after ours. Did they win a basketball game? If you are walking in a regular city you just notice this and keep going, but if you are in a backlot musical city you say (or sing) "Good morning, can I take your photo?" Usually there is a song and then a dance, and then a big production number, in this instance with a Puerto Rican flavor, and after about 10 minutes you go to a commercial break and the whole thing is but a memory.
Scratch and Sniff Photo
I met a friend and we had lunch at Taralucci e Vino on 18th Street. It was really great. I had never been before. Long wooden tables, loads of light, people all over and good food and coffee. I will go back. I then went to the Farmer's Market on Union Square and loved all the fruit and veg and people. I will disclose only to you that I was busted talking to myself by this guy hanging around the bin of Braeburn apples and in my never-ending pathetic need to not be seen as a freak I told him that I was talking to myself and he rightfully turned away and probably ran. Later in another part of the market I completely body-checked this guy by accident and he turned around and it was him! I again wanted to say something like "Oh my God, you must think I am a total weirdo following you around!" But I thought, even though it was not true, it didn't need to be said. And then I thought "You are in New York City and there are loads of freaks and today you are one. No need to explain."
That evening I was at my very first loft party in Noho. I never thought Noho existed and now I see it everywhere. It was a great party with great food and loads of people. I talked to Bridget and Eileen in the far corner. Eileen was in the St. Pat's parade as was I. Bridget has gone ever since she was a little girl. Turns out Eileen's brother lives in Noe Valley in San Francisco where I used to live and we talked about the coffee on 24th Street. Her niece even went to the same high school in the city that I did! All this conversation in a loft in New York. I was with Sean, Frank, Pat and John and saw Mark there and met Mike and his wife Matia who were really cool. Vi threw the party and it was an excellent affair. Another excellent production number.
I left and took the B train home. Which is a lie to anyone who knows the B doesn't run on the weekends. OKAY, I took the D train. And transferred to the A at 59th. (Can't you just see Danny Kaye singing a great comic number about the B is not the D and the D is not the C and if you knew that you would get an A?)
Crane shot of sleepy Noho street, lovers walking hand and hand out of frame, THE END and FADE.