Saturday morning, instead of staying in and writing, I camped out with coffee and a bagel at an outdoor table at a deli nearby. Later while I ran errands, I took my notebook with me, stopping and writing whenever I took a break or grabbed another coffee.
Also hit Central Park where I wrote near the Alice in Wonderland sculpture, and the Frick museum, writing in the beautiful covered garden. A nice change from being cooped up all day.
Happy Mother’s Day – Not!
Okay, so it was Mother’s Day weekend. But Mother’s Day is not like the New Year; it’s not applicable to everyone and so you shouldn’t go around saying, “Have a happy Mother’s Day!” to every female of child-bearing age. You don’t know anything about that person.
Maybe she 1) doesn’t have kids by choice; 2) wants to have kids and has been trying for years and just can’t; 3) is barren; 4) had a miscarriage; or 5) like yours truly, is so far from possible motherhood that she might as well be a 12-year old boy. Think, people, think!
An Especially Weird Fetishy Encounter
So I was standing on the subway platform Sunday morning, minding my own business. Suddenly this white guy, maybe in his 50s or 60s, tiny with crazy gray hair and chewing on a toothpick, came up out nowhere.
“June-ko?” he said to me, making me jump 10 feet.
Assuming he was talking in some made-up Asian language, I ignored him.
“June-ko?” he said again, coming closer. “June-ko? June-ko? June-ko?”
What the fuck, motherfucker? I moved away.
“Oh, sorry,” he said. “You’re not June-ko.”
Gee, ya think? After saying it five times and my not responding? And I’m sorry but “June-ko” doesn’t sound like a real Asian name to me.
It’s been gorgeous out! I prefer it on the cool side. Now if only it’d stay this way for the whole summer.