I was off work today; it was Columbus Day. It's not a mandatory holiday, and it strikes me as odd that the Population Council would celebrate it, given the fact that if ever there was a politically correct institution, it would be the Pop Council. Well, maybe that's not entirely fair - it's not that the Council is politically correct; it's just that it's hyper-aware of cultural diversity. Hence, I find it odd that the council would embrace a day celebrating a man who brought disease and destruction to indigenous peoples of the Americas; who brought slavery and subjugation to a proud and civilized, if technically less advanced, people.
I saw Tom Langdon online today and wished him a happy "Slayer of indigenous Peoples Day." His reply was, "Watch it, I'm Italian. Though I agree with you."
So there you have it.
I dragged Maya off with me to the Bed, Bath & Beyond in Chelsea to shop for a new duvet for my bed. I skated through all last winter with the thin little thermal throw, and it was okay and all, but there's something I missed about having a nice, heavy duvet trapping me on my bed through the cold winter nights.
I managed to find a really nice 250-count cotton sheet set, but there were no queen-size duvets of the style and price-range I needed left on the shelves. Columbus Day shoppers had stripped the store bare. So now I've got to wait until Wednesday for the restock. I'm wary of spending the money, now that my Durham trip is only a few days away. I suspect that I'm always going to be wary of spending money, given my history of money woes. I'd love to be able to just build a bridge and get over that, but alas, it ain't happening soon.
So our shopping excursion was a bit of a bust, but boy, did I discover a new cruise joint! Bed, Bath & Beyond is, like, a gay man's paradise! And the excursion wasn't a total bust. We did managed to find some really cheap pint glasses for our kitchen, which we'd really been lacking.
I was going through some old notes and discovered this, something I jotted down at the rally on October 6th, one of my favorite signs:
"Jail Enron, Free Palestine."
Priceless. Never gonna happen, but I love it.
After we got back from dinner, I washed up the glasses we purchased and Maya sat down to work on her resume; she's got an appointment with The Laury Group tomorrow. And Jesse grabbed my new copy of Pi to finish watching it. So since I couldn't get at my computer and Maya was using the office, and I couldn't watch TV as Jesse was halfway through a movie I'd not yet seen, I decided to grab my journal and go for a walk around the neighborhood.
There's a coffee shop in the neighborhood called Ozzie's, which I'd passed a number of times and thought, "Oh, I need to try that place sometime." So I wandered in and ordered some tea and checked it out. I walked into the place at ten of nine and I think they wanted to close.
I think I was a little too quick to give Jesse a hard time for not liking Ozzie's. It had seemed nice enough on the couple of times I'd passed by... from the outside.
His problem with it, if I'm remembering correctly, was that he didn't like the atmosphere or the coffee or the people who were hanging out there. I remember thinking he was being a little harsh. Well, he wasn't.
My chief complaint was that it's just a shoddily done make-over of a former drug store. And it's a little grungy and dirty. And over-priced. A large tea there is the size of a small tea at Starbucks, and it costs $1.75. And they only filled my cup about ¾ full with hot water.
Enough bitching!
It was really a lovely night out. Cool & brisk... a perfect autumn evening. Sometimes I'm still amazed that it took 'til October for New York to get some truly autumnal weather.
But it's here at last, and I couldn't be happier. We're getting into my favorite time of year. When the weather starts to dictate my fashion choices. I thought, walking through Chelsea this evening, that I'm not, and never will be, hip enough to hang out in places like that.
Sometimes I wonder if I fit in anywhere, really. I'm too "square" for places like the village, and not square (or perhaps "polished" is a better way of putting it) enough for Tribeca or Soho. I'm too poor to hang out on the Upper East Side, and too old to hang with the funky college crowd of Midtown West. But you know what? I'm really kinda okay with that. I like having my own weird-ass amalgamated style. And if ever there's a place in the world where you're not alone in not fitting in, it's New York City, in all it's crazy individuality.
Thank God for individual expression, say I.
By the way... Have I ever sung to you the praises of Matt B? It's an online comic that comes out periodically (you can actually buy the books too, in certain outlets in Canada - where Matt the artist is from - and New York City), and I enjoy it every time. He really just does odd little "slice of life" moments, but I enjoy them so much. You should check it out sometime.
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