Bag Index

Index of my bag as of September 17: 1. A book with traffic rules. 2. A receipt of a package delivered to Bernard Schechtman, the accountant I work for in New York. He had me send it to Great Neck, to a building which I suspect to be an elderly home. 3. Sunglasses. Not sure why. 4. A businesscard of a shop in Hum. Hum is the smallest town in the world. People there invented their own language too. This shop was the smallest shop in Hum. It sold moonshine liquors and homemade soaps. When we asked the man who worked there whether people actually lived in Hum, he said his girlfriend did. She lived next to the store. He had to commute every day from a larger town in the area. For some reason this struck me as very romantic. Even though it didn't make sense for the girl to not just have him live with her. Then again, being pragmatic is almost never romantic. Besides, maybe she had the smallest apartment in Hum. 5. A book about Cannibalism. (A novel about a man eating his lover. Written by a Belgian, obviously.) 6. Migraine pills. Always. 7. Change. Currencies: Pound (Stuck at Heathrow in October for 4 hours and had to do something. That something turned out to be spending money. Do not remember on what.) Kunas (Do not think I will need these any time soon.) 8. Paper handkerchiefs. Got these for free at a pharmacy in Kassel when I was buying nose spray. I have bought nose spray in every country I have ever been to. They've become useful souvenirs.

Topics

Dinner tonight: Pasta, with lentils, bacon, onion, garlic and tomato sauce. Other ingredients: A baby girl falling from the stairs. She has a bump, but seemed to be alright for the rest. A long conversation about Dutch politics (obviously). Would it be appropriate to disregard a party even though they get a lot of votes? Is democracy a positive thing? We spoke so loud one of the kids hugged his dad and told him not to look at me anymore. Also: Money talk. And a project we've been talking about for years. They have hours of footage of a couple traveling the world in the sixties bought at a fleamarket. We want to make it into a feature length film, with a voice over. (It's a couple who never had children, and who we, the filmmakers, don't know. What happens when stories aren't told? When a bloodline dies? Where do the memories go? etc.) We still haven't developed this film. Again. We've been talking about this for years. Perhaps some things are better conversation topics than anything else. Then we listened to music in silence for a while.

TV

In an attempt to watch something on television that would kill the least amount of braincells, I decided to go with the BBC. A safe choice. My other options were 'Toddlers and Tiara's,' something about expensive NY apartments, and a reality show about a family (maybe they were famous, I had never heard of them) where a girl tried to get her driving license, but had trouble doing so. And they say America is going through an economic crisis.
Anyway. A news item came on about North Korea and their plans to launch a satellite. Apparently it was the first time ever that journalists were invited to this North Korean 'NASA' like base. They showed the room with computers and some other stuff, and the voice over told us about what we were seeing. Then they cut to a swimming pool with a big water slide, and a bunch of Koreans in colorful bathing suits, coming down the slide. The voice over went: 'I am not sure why they decided to show us this. It is a swimming pool. Perhaps they wanted to show us the elevator you can use to get to the highest diving board.'
Maybe North Korea just wanted to show the rest of the world that they use technology for good too. I mean-an elevator to the highest diving board? Impressive.

Girl

Today I went to get a manicure around Murray hill, since I just finished work in that neighborhood. A young giggly Indian girl was assigned to me. She quietly hummed along with some of the songs on the radio. Then 'True colors' came on. She asked me who sang this song-she didn't know it. I guessed it was Cindy Lauper. "She's from the 80's" I said. She nodded. "She has such a sweet voice," the girl said. Then she continued painting on my nail polish.

Messages received

Ten is good. It's called Jack's wife Frida.This girl I know works there. On Lafayette near Select. I love a breakfast date, plus there's little chance of us getting drunk!

It was crazy but I knew the outcome before I watched it.

Lazy sounds good! Show is thursday 12-6.

Yes, totally unorthodox.

Ik ben zenuwachtig.

Weak

Alcohol consumed this week:

5-8 Budweiser (The dash is because I'm leaning towards 8, but don't quite remember if that's because it felt like 8, or was actually 8 bottles. It was an art show with not such nice art.)
2 Jack Daniels (At friends house, on ice, accompanied with cherry pie at 3 AM.)
1 glass of red wine (Was meeting a friend at wine bar, they had already ordered a bottle.)
1 Jack Daniels in plastic cup (At a speak easy bar where they played a lot of salsa. Consequently danced some salsa too. There was a Columbian man there who told me the only way to speak to girls is to dance with them. Also, if you can't dance in Colombia you never get laid. He was wearing a polka dot shirt.)
1 Negra Modela, 1 Corona (At Salsa bar. It got hot and made everyone thirsty.)
3 proseccos (Celebratory for the new year. Or rather, Chinese new year, I suppose.)
3 glasses of white wine (Following the prosecco.)
2 bohemia (At Mexican restaurant.)

This is not in chronological order.

Stories

It was cold, getting dark, and she was thinking about money, the lack of it, and what to make for dinner. Her bicycle was getting a flat tire, she could feel it when she hit a bump in the street. Her three year old son sat in the front seat of her bicycle and seemed oblivious, the way only children can be. In the corner of her eye she saw a man on a bicycle getting closer behind her. He had a daughter about the same age, who was babbling to herself, clinching onto his thick winter coat. She recognized him from something, but wasn't sure from what. An actor? Someone she worked with? Or did he look like someone she knew? They passed an ice skating rink, one especially built for the holidays. Loud music was blasting from the speakers and teenagers were leaning on the railing. She looked at the man again, and remembered. How strange and oddly coincidental. Ten years ago, when she still thought she had to do everything as soon as possible, and as a result did almost everything, mostly boys, she had met a boy and for some strange reason they ended up on a skating rink similar to this one. They had kissed for a while in the middle of the crowd, and she had felt very exposed, but in a good way. She hadn't even known his name, which was part of the excitement. Nothing had come of it, she had gone home and had dinner with her parents. Peas and chicken. It all tasted better than usual. She looked at him again, and at his daughter. She should've turned a corner, but decided to cycle next to him one more block. Just to pretend a little longer.