Ok so remember yesterday how I promised a post filled with minutia and then I left you high and dry with some videos to watch but zero minutia? It was a classic bait-and-switch. I promised minutia and then tucked in my shingle, threw up some videos and called it a night. I dangled minutia in your face and then pulled up stakes, gave you some videos, and said sayonara. I baked you a minutia cake and then when you weren’t looking I replaced with a platter of crispy fried videos and also went to bed. I think you get what I’m saying. And what exactly does one do with a shingle? Remove a shingle? Put away a shingle? I’m perplexed.
So anyway, here’s the streamlined version of the ‘tia (that’s what I’ve decided I’m going to be calling minutia from here on out in this post). The minu’ (I’m such a liar!) being streamlined because it’s less fresh in my head than it would have been yesterday if I’d just blogged right when I got home as opposed to now when just the main details are sticking in my head. There’s an argurment that just the important parts are what will have stayed with me and in essence I’m doing you all a favor because I’m giving you a naturally edited version however I think that’s pure bunk. I think it’s malarkey. I think it’s baloney. And balogna. I think it’s hogwash on a shit shingle (shingle!). I think it’s crap and it’s drivel and it’s junk and it reeks to high heaven. I don’t really, I just felt like getting carried away and that seemed like as good a reason as any.
So here’s what happened, minus the rambling preamble which I would have attached yesterday but plus a different rambling preamble which I just wrote regarding shingles and things that are false.
So I’m walking home from the grocery store and I see a perfectly perforated pizza crust—I mean, it’s clear whoever ate this piece of pizza DID NOT WANT CRUST—just sitting in the middle of the street. My first thought is that I should take a photo and make a blog post and refer to it as “Street carbs!” which isn’t that funny however it was all happening so fast. But then a ways ahead sitting in a chair outside the laundromat was this guy whom I met a zillion years ago who probably has no idea who I am and also probably has no idea that not only do I know who he is but I know who his wife is and I know the publications they both work or worked for and I knew who they both were before they were married and from afar I watched them become one and have a baby and apparently they live in my neighborhood because I’ve been pretending I don’t see them every time I see them which is often. Because, see, they were further along in their respective writing careers than I was when I first moved to New York, which is roughly when I met them, separately, and so apparently that kind of thing has stuck with me which is why now, 8 years later when I’m well aware most everyone feels like a failure and like they didn’t live up to their promise and the irony is that the perception of me and where I am in my career is really the opposite, seeing as how I pose in glittery sweaters and am just all kinds of fancy (I am. I really am. I’m not going to deny it.) Uh-oh, that thing happened where I got lost in my own run-on sentence. I think I was saying that 8 years or something have passed but still I can’t be seen snapping a photo of pizza in the street in front of someone I’m pretending not to recognize who likely has no idea who I am or every idea who I am which, if all people are kind of the same, he does. Surely I can’t be the only media person in New York who knows who everyone else is. Possibly I’m the only one who finds this somehow inhibits taking photos of pizza though.
To be honest, I feel like I’ve become highly avoidant of interactions with real human beings. It’s too hot and immediate. Exhibit B? Today at the post office I saw someone who looked familiar and I couldn’t place him but I had a weird feeling, like this person was definitely not a neighborhood person and yet I definitely knew him somehow. So I stood there trying to place him, feeling like he was possibly going to spin around and see me and since I couldn’t figure out from where I knew him and if it was a good or bad knowing, and also because there was a line, I turned around and decided I’d come back later. A few steps away I realized he’d done my makeup before, and I liked him and liked his work, so I went back to the post office…. where I didn’t say hi to him.
I did, however, think to myself, “I should blog that.”
Having now done so, I’m wondering if that wasn’t a great idea.
In other news, I’m an incredibly confident person who isn’t bothered by little things like all of the above. I just made all that up so I would seem human and sort of flawed. Hope it worked!
