Quote of the day: An unexamined life is not worth blogging about.
Song of the day: “Jambi” by Tool
State of mind: Tired
My step niece and her new husband came over to visit my mother yesterday and she pulled out my photo albums from 1989-1997 to let those two look through them for some reason. These aren’t family photos. They are filled with my pictures and scraps of things I had done during those years. Concert tickets, movie stubs, articles, photos, picks, stickers, and all sorts of embarrassing things of that sort. I hadn’t looked through them in ages and was mortified when I opened to the first page and there was a picture of me from Jr. High. Oh. My. God. My face was tiny. Yet my nose…. was not. I could only imagine my niece getting the largest kick out of me circa 1985. My mother sucks.
It was weird flipping through the books because as each page turned I remembered every single thing on it but hadn’t thought about any of it in years. There was nothing in there that I felt particularly apt to share until I came to the pages of my very first trip to NYC. Guess who took me?
Go on, guess.
I’m not sure how we decided to go to NYC, but we did in October of 1990. What I remember most about the trip was the first glimpse of the Big Apple. It was dark by the time we got anywhere near the city and we were surrounded by the typical scenery along the throughway which was darkness and trees when he topped a hill and there it was, the whole god damned city. It was HUGE! So compact and bright.
We stayed at his Aunt and Uncle’s house and went a-touristing the next day. I got attacked by a pigeon, rode a ferry, the subway, missed seeing the hookers that Henry tried to point out, and ate at a pizza place run by a Chinese family. (Henry thinks we went to a Chinese place, but I know we didn’t because at the time I hated Chinese food and there is no way I would have agreed to go to one.) Anyhow, I have a few pictures to share. (Hey, Henry did it to me a while back. Fair is fair.)
I remember that jacket of his. It was very soft.
I remember this jacket of mine. It sucked.
I’m in the shade which I think makes me look like a cardboard cut out in this picture. True story, they was a cardboard cut out of Gorbachev in the plaza of the Twin Towers that you could pay to have your picture taken with. I don’t know why anyone would want too, but whatever.
We saw Donald Trump on the observation deck of the Tower. He was with a shady looking character in a long black trench coat carrying a black suitcase. Something was going on. Don’t know what, and I don’t think I want to know.
At the end of the day we took a cab back to the parking lot near Battery Park to get his car and drove home. I don’t remember the drive home at all.
Isn’t it weird how some memories are as vivid as a photo while whole chunks of what you know you did are just gone? I mean, we had to have driven home or I wouldn’t be here right now, yet I have no memory of it at all. Nothing of interest must have happened other then Henry yanking out random tapes from the middle console and not letting me see which one it was or making me guess who it was based on the opening riff of the first song. He was odd like that. And I sucked at that game. A lot.
Show quote of the day:
“What are we going to do?”