the guy could handle the whole deal by himself. he didn’t need no stinking dinner partner.
Will had dinner with me tonight, to finish my birthday celebration. It was great — we ate at a diner in my neighborhood that has my favorite salad ever, of all times. He was still zinging around from his crazy busy day at work, so I chattered for a while to give him a chance to settle in and unwind. But sitting next to us was this very strange old man who was talking and gesturing — a lot, and loudly — to a dinner companion who just wasn’t there. He was lit, let’s just say it that way.
It was like getting a glimpse into the guy’s mind, because whatever he thought came out of his mouth, and it was influenced by the slightest things going on in his proximity. So when I took this picture of Will:
my crazy son who cannot take a picture seriously
the drunk dude at the next table started talking about cameras. He stopped the waiter and asked him about cameras, told him stories about an SLR he used to have that could only take great pictures. The waiter humored him for a second and then slipped away. Then the guy started talking about something else, and then he abruptly said MAMMY! while lifting his hand.
It alternated between being extremely annoying, kind of funny in a trainwreck kind of way, kind of sad, and back to extremely annoying. It hit annoying two times out of every four rounds through the emotions. Mainly he was annoying. Yeah.
Today I tried to take a new picture of my Wintry Mix sweater so you could really see it, since the photograph I took in the Catskills made it look like the shoulder was weird and rumply in a way it isn’t, really. It’s a very dark green and I was indoors, and it’s just hard to get a good shot of it. This is the best I could do; see the great cowl, and the beautiful shape? It’s a wonderful sweater if you’re in the mood for a bottom-up pullover.
Wintry Mix, by Amy Herzog (yarn: berroco blackstone tweed, in evergreen)
It’s a great sweater; obviously, I wear a very thin long-sleeved t-shirt underneath it for extra warmth and because it feels a little better. The blackstone tweed is 65% wool, 25% mohair, and 10% angora, and it’s just the tiniest bit uncomfortable for some reason. That’s not really right — it’s just a tiny bit more comfortable with a very thin shirt underneath. I really love the sweater, and can’t recommend the pattern enough. I changed it up so the collar is more a cowl than a big flat Peter Pan-type collar, and I love it that way. And Will approves — he’s been my fashion approver for a very long time. 
is he drunk, or a suicide bomber? how would i know?
Last night I had to take the subway downtown a little ways, and when I got into a car, the absolute REEK of alcohol literally made me gasp. Of course, when this happens I immediately begin to try to figure out which person is the drunk. Because I want to stay far far away from him. And it’s almost always a him. The last time I was trapped too near a drunk, he started vomiting and the car was so crowded, we were all just trapped, and on and on he went. Other times, the drunks are rowdy and big and loud, and kind of scary. Especially to me.
So, last night I grabbed a seat and started looking around, trying to ID him. I didn’t think it was the big guy sitting next to the door; he had a gym bag between his feet. I didn’t think it was the Sikh man standing, facing the door. Yeah, probably not him. (I know I’m being guilty of visual profiling!) No one looked drunk, but I figured it was probably the young(ish) guy standing in the middle of the aisle with his back to me. He wore work boots and a long jacket, and he had some kind of leather bag hanging down, which he wore under his jacket. STRANGE.
my subways
So that leather bag…..hanging inside his coat…..what’s that about? Who does that? Is he just some strange guy, or someone who was robbed once, so he learned to do that? Or is he some crazy subway bomber?! And that gym bag by the door, what’s really inside that zipped duffel bag?
Suddenly the question of whether the guy was a drunk was much less important.
Living in post-9/11 Manhattan, with the ongoing question of whether to prosecute the 9/11 suspects here, with subway bombings happening elsewhere in the world, with the occasional pair of murders happening (a double knifing on my own subway line a couple of mornings ago), you know? You pay attention in the subway. You get used to random bag searches; my assistant at work was routinely searched, but I’ve never been stopped. According to a story on Gothamist, “one rider said, “I feel the tension on the Metro. Nobody’s smiling or laughing.”" And that’s different from other days how?
To close on a much nicer note: Crow Kai-Mei:
Kai-Mei socks, madelinetosh sock in crow colorway
Isn’t that such a beautiful color, that indigo blue, with shadings from black to denim to lighter blue? I would never have thought to call it crow, but I guess madelinetosh was thinking of the blue-blackness of crows so I get it. To me, it looks more like denim but I’m no colorist. I’m only knitting these socks during my commute to and from work, so I get a few rows done at a time. At this rate, I’ll have one done by the time I finish my daughter’s wedding dress and shawl, but who cares! I’ll still have feet, and need socks, so there.
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