Chapter 39.1: Idle Chatter

New York is as I remember it. Filled with beautiful, indifferent women and smells of body functions best left undescribed. My office is in Chelsea not far from Union Square, but I still need to learn about my neighborhood. Some days I take a quick walk to ascertain my surroundings, to the park for music and observations. The farmers market is expensive, and I’m not about to tote a bag of corn back to New Jersey. Other days I meander up to Barnes & Noble to read poems or pages of philosophy texts. I find them much more nourishing than the vegetables at the market.

One morning I was walking up 14th Street when a woman was hanging the American flag at the Job Center. The only problem was she had it upside down. I called it to the attention of her co-worker, who was letting people into the building. He didn’t understand what I meant until I pointed and said, “The flag. It’s upside down.” His face seemed to open up in horror – far more dramatic than the moment required. He called out to the woman and I went on my way.

The church on 15th Street is being renovated. At least, that’s what appears to be happening. There are construction workers who toss dusty chunks of plaster into piles on the sidewalk. A homeless man sleeps on an old recliner; I wonder if he dragged it there or if it came from inside.

I’m surprised at how many dogs there are in the neighborhood. I see people walking their dogs at all hours of the day, but it’s as though two dozen dogs hit the streets at about 8 a.m. in that neighborhood. Small streams run away from the crouching dogs and mingle with the other mess on the street. The street cleaners seem to run every day, though I’m sure I’m mistaken; I just don’t care enough about the machines to pay attention to their schedule.

A cheery woman hands out copies of the free daily newspaper, amNew York at the corner of 14th and 6th. She mixes treacly comments to passersby she recognizes, which I’m not in the mood to hear before a cup of coffee. Yet, one day last week she wasn’t there. Some guy stood holding a copy of the paper and merely said “amNew York.” The next day the happy woman was back, and I took the paper, happy she was back. I enjoy doing its crossword puzzle on the PATH train back home at the end of the day. And the music information is passable.