So. Here we are. Weird, isn't it? Feels a bit like when you have to do a big massive family goodbye after a heavy christmas, but kind of when you know the car isn't quite packed yet, you might bump into Aunty Pam in the hall 5 minutes after doing the big 'goodbye and thanks for the comb' thing with her, and so you keep it all quite short and jovial just in case, even though you might very well never ever see them again. Until next Christmas. Thats how I'm feeling about doing my final NY post.
And yes I finally did it. I promised I would, so I did- yesterday a pyschic came up to me and Lyds on the street and insisted that there was something about my past she just had to know more about. And by 'know more about', she of course meant 'let you pay for me to know more about'. It was 5 dollars, she said. Funnily enough I had a 5 dollar bill in my hand. Fate? God? L.Ron Hubbard? who knows. But you blog munchers demanded it, and so I could do nothing except obey.
So. Whats in my future? Who bloody knows. What a jip. Why do I keep letting strangers tell me how much is wrong with my personality? Last week or whatever it was my graph mirror that was getting me down in team Scientology, this week its my aura. Oh yeah, my aura is pretty bad. It should be gold, and apparently mine is grey. GREY. But, I was to discover, there was at least a logical reason for this.
'When you were concieved, somebody put a curse on your parents. A curse!'
Oh right.
'Its because of this curse that you live your life under this terrible negativity. You can feel it right? Right under your ribs?'
I could feel something. But I'm pretty sure it was a sinking feeling of wondering how much icecream i could have eaten for my five dollars worth. But still, stick it out eh?
'so my parents were... were cursed?'
She nodded seriously, staring at my palm.
'Oh dear.. thats.. thats rubbish. Erm. who cursed them?'
She peered at my hand. I did the same. Unless the culprits were called creasy mcfinger nail and Thumbs Wristington, I didn't think I would be able to see a name. Apparently she felt the same.
'I cant see right now. The negativity blocking it is too strong. You need.. you need. You need salt. From the seven seas. And a crystal. Only then, when I help you, will you be rid of this curse.'
I had a feeling this wasn't an offer for a charity cleansing.
'How much money do you have to start this journey?'
I was right. I smiled quite firmly, and said 'Oh, none. I'm afraid. None at all.'
'I can see in your face you are about to come into come money!'
Oh well thats very convienient.
'Yes, well, even so, I think I'll just live.. as I am.. for now. Thank you though. For the offer.'
'You dont want to find them? Find the ones who put the curse upon you? Caused your aura such pain?'
'n....no. Not. Not right now. I'm flying home in a couple of days so.. so that'll... you know, take up quite a lot of my time. Thanks again.'
OH though. She did tell me something else. Something MUCH better and really relieved a lot of worries that had been building up in my head. She told me that the person I'm in a relationship with now is the person i'm going to marry, and we're going to have two children. What a load off my mind. Anyone whose been wondering how it's all going to end with me and Jack- worry no more. Its all sorted. Though sadly, Jack didn't seem quite as excited as I'd hoped when I explained all this to him on skype later. When I told proudly how we were scientifically destined to marry and have two children, he replied with
'yeah, I probably don't even have swimmers.'
Which rather put a dampner on things. What the hell kind of celebration is that? Oh well. If she's as good a psychic as I think she is, we'll see who's laughing in the end.
Since I've come to the end of my 6 week jaunt into the loud unknown, I feel that now is a good time to reflect upon what has passed, and perhaps try and draw up some useful things I have discovered for the future. God. Can't believe its been 6 weeks since Abdahl offered me that Tuna wrap. This is pure and utter madess. Here we go then, lets see what happens here.
1. If you need a chat, head for a park and try and do something very much on your own- Company will find you.
2. Violins are a very bad impulse buy- especially for the surrounding customers.
3. Friends can come from unlikely places, including inside walls.
4. Piles of wood are sacred in some cultures.
5. Fish are brilliant.
6. Engrams are terrible
7. You can pay to watch penguins swim about in poo- other penguins' poo.
8. There are disadvantages to not having a full length mirror- Naked based disadvantages
9. There are advantages to not having a full length mirror- potentially lucrative naked advantages.
10. The smell of franchised joy can make you do anything
11. Yellow shoes should be given to those only with the power to control them.
12. Line drawings of girls on ponies can be the most disturbing thing you've ever seen- in the correct massive eye context.
13. Lydia King knows how to do New York properly.
14. I simply know how to find the mentals.
15. The King of the Jews is alive and well and awaiting a court hearing.
16. There is so much loud in New York that the sound of a weeping lesbian becomes more background humming than anything.
17. Never begin a conversation with a stranger with the words 'were you the one who raped...'
18. In theory- I care about cricket.
19. Massive pants can be strangely liberating.
20. Buying a cell phone can sometimes be classed as unwanted therapy.
and finally, of course
21. Never accept a tuna wrap from a stranger. Who knows what else you might be accepting.
Thank you, those who are reading, to have cared enough about my exploits to have come with me to the bitter end. For those who didnt read every post, you are a bastard. And you probably should.
Who knows, I might continue it on, though I'd imagine its a lot trickier blogging about the people you spent time with, when they are the people that read it. Hmmm.
For the last time then, this is Natasha Yak, fledgling scientologist, amateur nude model and head journalist at Hamlet and Cheese Sandwich, signing off. I'll see you on the other side.
xxx
Monday, June 8, 2009
Thursday, June 4, 2009
The King Has Arrived
Living on my own for so long, I often forget about girl things. I think I do try a bit harder when back in the real world, as society, decorum and the rules of not catching the plague so wilfully demand. By this I don't mean to go on some sort of mad feminist 'BURN IT ALL' type rant, I simply mean that when left to my own devices, I do prefer to inch towards the feral way of living. I simply just cannot be bothered with it. This is something I forgot to mention to Lydia, a girl that not only understands how the counters at MAC makeup work, but strides in confidently, ordering more lip..blast..shade 79.8 to complement the latest face.. sheen with the laserology complex and GET ME A LATTE GODDAMMIT, I'M DUE TO MEET GEORGIO IN 10. -except not in a bastard way, just in a 'this chick knows too much, dont try and screw her over' kind of way. You get my drift.
I met her from the train station with the happiness of one who is very very much looking forward to seeing her friend, and who also gets to show off their knowledge of New York. It was both gratifying and a bit more gratifying to see Lydia, being a seasoned London underground user, clinging to me on our first subway trip whispering in panic, 'never leave me.' Of course this morning she text me telling me its all well easy, but still. I'll always have that moment. We finally got her to my apartment, I proudly showed her the sink, a chair and many other items also under my command. She nodded, made appropriate noises and we sank into my room. She declared that showering was in order. I stated happily that yes, indeed, we have one of those as well. She then asked me if I had straighteners.
I've used straighteners maybe 5 times in my life. They confuse me a bit with their light saber physique and their heat that is made to hurt precious precious ears. I shook my head slowly. She asked me where my hair dryer was. I didn't actually bring one, I explained because.. because.. becuase I didn't actually bring one. We shared quite a slow look. Luckily, she told me, she already knew all of this about me, and had brought her own. Tragedy number 1 smartly sidestepped.
Now, she asked, was she OK to use my Shampoo and Conditioner, showergel and makeup remover. Ah. Shampoo and Conditioner, I fell over myself to say, yes! All yours! Enjoy with the power of someone who has control over how clean their hair is. Now.. as for shower gel and makeup remover..
Well, the thing is, quite early on in the trip, I left a bag of various liquids in a taxi, never got them back and as I still had some good ol' fashioned soap- soap, the item whose soul desire is to clean, I figured to be honest, whats the real difference? Body, face, they all need cleaning, and SOAP is the man for the job! Hurrah! Free! Hurrah!
Apparently this was not a time for celebration. It is difficult to describe the look on Lydia's face when I explained the soapy situation. But it was a bit like I'd calmly explained that there was a dead African boy in the bath that she'd have to step over to reach the shampoo. But hey, she's not going to complain, she's a lovely girl, she's in NY, she's happy! So, with only slight mutters of 'moisturising glove', 'exfoliating..powder' (may be paraphrasing here) she hopped shower bound, and left me to wonder whether my life is a very correct one. She emerged looking a little traumatised, her MAC makeup still clinging stubbornly to her eyes- I helpfully remarked that if she bought really cheap and crap makeup like I do, it would basically fall off her face as soon as she looked in the mirror. God bless you Collection 2000.
But still, she was here, I was here, and New York was looking cheekily in through the window. There was no time for a soap debate! With a final 'we'll buy some makeup remover today Tash, Ok?' we were OFF to experience NOO YORK CITY like it was the first time, and I was very very genuinely ridiculously happy. We decided to go to central park, it was all parky and wonderful, so wonderful and free of the crazies in fact that in a moment of delerium we decided to go to the Central Park zoo. Admittedly, looking back, this was a bit of an error. A small zoo, filled with 'a polar bear' oh that bear, is only ever going to inspire grief at the best of times. But hey, there was a SNOW LEOPARD on the front of the zoo map! They're pretty exciting, so exciting that you might forget how horribly small the zoo enclosures actually are. WE wandered first to the Tropic Zone, but discovered it was shut. A bit put out, we headed off to the Panda... Party (or whatever) to cheer us up a bit. Didn't really succeed, as it turned out it was shut. The polar bear looked as pissed off as we did. Only the sight of a leopard saved us - and it was the picture of the one on the map, as we realised fairly quickly that the leopard enclosure was shut. We agreed that we'd rather see the happy little fellow on the photo running wild and free than seeing a sad chain smoking cat looking up at us with the distain a prostitute gives to her ugliest punter. Going into the Penguin/Puffin Zone (they quite liked the work 'Zone'- and so did I, made me feel a bit like we were on the Crystal Maze), and walked in to instantly see a penguin pooing into the water, and another penguin swimming happily into it. Oh the glories of nature. I couldn't help overhearing a couple next to us, with the woman saying fervently 'oh look! its just like Happy Feet! Did you see Happy Feet?'
the man was silent for a second, and then said without looking at her, 'Yep. Couldn't stand it.'
By this point we were fairly soul-destroyed by the zoo, and felt we needed to go to a place where the exhibits on display were a bit happier, prettier and less expensive. Oh did we find it. Did we ever find it. Sure you could go to the MET, the MOMA and all those other 'art' places for your aesthetic overload, but we discovered somewhere far, far superior. Superior to the point of death. Lydia slowly guided me into a side of New York I had never seen, as my view had been blocked the crazies wielding broken computers. She showed me the world of...Abercrombie and Fitch. Oh. Dear. Lord.
Upon entering, the most beautiful girl I had ever seen bounded up to us and smiled, 'hi! Would you like a photo?' Before I could ask what she meant, the most beautiful man I had ever seen in my life came into view, shirtless, smiling, and waiting to pose. Myself and Lyds were so gosmacked by the beauty in the nearby vicinity we could do nothing but grin like mad fools as a polaroid was taken of us with beautiful man, and then, both of them grinning and waving, we were taken into what I can only describe as the happiest place in the world. The air vents were pumping out a scent called 'Fierce' that was a mixture between pure rugged joy and a really clean and brilliant wolf. Everyone in the shop was happy, dancing and so bloody beautiful you wanted to tear out your eyes and let them eat them. And the music. Oh the music. Some drug had been fazed into the music somehow, as all I could do was turn to Lyds and say 'Lydia.. this music... it makes me feel like.. like.. like I can do ANYTHING.' I looked into her eyes and saw the same hypnotised madness I felt in my own soul. Nothing good could come of this.
But the people though, you dont understand, they were SO happy, and dancey and chatty and BEAUTIFUL. I felt like I needed to savour every moment, because never ever again would such beautiful people look at me directly in the eyes and not slightly to the side for fear of catching something I had. It was amazing. So amazing that we both stumbled out about 7 hours later, dazed, half asleep and clutching bits of expensive material. We held them to our faces, breathed in slowly and whispered 'it smells.. it smells like them.'
Jesus. Thank you Lydia. Thank you for this gift you have shown me. There's no way I would have done this on my own. I probably would have bypassed the shop for an interesting looking 3 legged dog in a hat that limped down a nearby alley.
The final thing I have to mention in this post of hugeness, is that we went to the theatre in the evening, to see a production of Our Town, a play I'd never read, knew nothing about, but a play so famous in america that nowhere on the programme was there any information about the show. Apparently it would be a bit like writing on a Romeo and Juliet programme 'A play by Mr William Shakespeare (English)- who is dead good, about these two people who fall in love and that- not gonna give away the ending but it gets a bit nasty.' We went to the show partially because I'd heard really good things about, and mainly because Jenn Markowitz said she would hurt me if we didn't, and I just don't think she's a woman to make these claims lightly. She knew someone in it, a man called Jeff, who was to meet us for a drink after. All of this, you can imagine, made us very bloody worried we wouldn't like the show, we've have to sneak off at the interval, quit facebook and become children of the rivers- (not a life that would suit lydia). Fotunately, it was bloody brilliant. Thank God. The acting was subtle and lovely, the ensemble was ridiculously strong, the staging was just genius and there was a bit with a curtain that suddenly made you realise the sheer power of curtains. It was wonderful and thoughtful and made you, for want of a better way of putting it, really really glad you were alive. How ridiculous, I know, but its true. So well done everyone. It was good. Quite enough of that I think. We ended up in a bar with a few of the cast and crew, -it turned out we'd crashed Jeff's date, but at least made him buy us a drink to make up for it. After a great chat and lovely beer (mmm the taste of free), Jeff left to get a bus, leaving us a little awkwardly with all the people we didn't know. The only option at this stage was to arm wrestle the producer. That done, we skipped out into the rainy night and danced home- and howww nice it was to have someone else to discuss it all with other than my own brain (sorry brain, you're very nice too).
So yes. Wow. Sorry I've gone on and on. Waiting for the exterminator to come and free us of mice (I'll tell him to avoid Adrain) so I really have nothing to do until he breaks upon us. Oh and we've got bedbugs too. Lydia, I forgot to tell you that bit. If you're reading this now, we have. If you've got a bite, its a bedbug one. So don't worry that its plague. Cos its not. Its bedbugs. Hope thats ok. NEEWWWW YOOOORRKKKKKKKK!
I met her from the train station with the happiness of one who is very very much looking forward to seeing her friend, and who also gets to show off their knowledge of New York. It was both gratifying and a bit more gratifying to see Lydia, being a seasoned London underground user, clinging to me on our first subway trip whispering in panic, 'never leave me.' Of course this morning she text me telling me its all well easy, but still. I'll always have that moment. We finally got her to my apartment, I proudly showed her the sink, a chair and many other items also under my command. She nodded, made appropriate noises and we sank into my room. She declared that showering was in order. I stated happily that yes, indeed, we have one of those as well. She then asked me if I had straighteners.
I've used straighteners maybe 5 times in my life. They confuse me a bit with their light saber physique and their heat that is made to hurt precious precious ears. I shook my head slowly. She asked me where my hair dryer was. I didn't actually bring one, I explained because.. because.. becuase I didn't actually bring one. We shared quite a slow look. Luckily, she told me, she already knew all of this about me, and had brought her own. Tragedy number 1 smartly sidestepped.
Now, she asked, was she OK to use my Shampoo and Conditioner, showergel and makeup remover. Ah. Shampoo and Conditioner, I fell over myself to say, yes! All yours! Enjoy with the power of someone who has control over how clean their hair is. Now.. as for shower gel and makeup remover..
Well, the thing is, quite early on in the trip, I left a bag of various liquids in a taxi, never got them back and as I still had some good ol' fashioned soap- soap, the item whose soul desire is to clean, I figured to be honest, whats the real difference? Body, face, they all need cleaning, and SOAP is the man for the job! Hurrah! Free! Hurrah!
Apparently this was not a time for celebration. It is difficult to describe the look on Lydia's face when I explained the soapy situation. But it was a bit like I'd calmly explained that there was a dead African boy in the bath that she'd have to step over to reach the shampoo. But hey, she's not going to complain, she's a lovely girl, she's in NY, she's happy! So, with only slight mutters of 'moisturising glove', 'exfoliating..powder' (may be paraphrasing here) she hopped shower bound, and left me to wonder whether my life is a very correct one. She emerged looking a little traumatised, her MAC makeup still clinging stubbornly to her eyes- I helpfully remarked that if she bought really cheap and crap makeup like I do, it would basically fall off her face as soon as she looked in the mirror. God bless you Collection 2000.
But still, she was here, I was here, and New York was looking cheekily in through the window. There was no time for a soap debate! With a final 'we'll buy some makeup remover today Tash, Ok?' we were OFF to experience NOO YORK CITY like it was the first time, and I was very very genuinely ridiculously happy. We decided to go to central park, it was all parky and wonderful, so wonderful and free of the crazies in fact that in a moment of delerium we decided to go to the Central Park zoo. Admittedly, looking back, this was a bit of an error. A small zoo, filled with 'a polar bear' oh that bear, is only ever going to inspire grief at the best of times. But hey, there was a SNOW LEOPARD on the front of the zoo map! They're pretty exciting, so exciting that you might forget how horribly small the zoo enclosures actually are. WE wandered first to the Tropic Zone, but discovered it was shut. A bit put out, we headed off to the Panda... Party (or whatever) to cheer us up a bit. Didn't really succeed, as it turned out it was shut. The polar bear looked as pissed off as we did. Only the sight of a leopard saved us - and it was the picture of the one on the map, as we realised fairly quickly that the leopard enclosure was shut. We agreed that we'd rather see the happy little fellow on the photo running wild and free than seeing a sad chain smoking cat looking up at us with the distain a prostitute gives to her ugliest punter. Going into the Penguin/Puffin Zone (they quite liked the work 'Zone'- and so did I, made me feel a bit like we were on the Crystal Maze), and walked in to instantly see a penguin pooing into the water, and another penguin swimming happily into it. Oh the glories of nature. I couldn't help overhearing a couple next to us, with the woman saying fervently 'oh look! its just like Happy Feet! Did you see Happy Feet?'
the man was silent for a second, and then said without looking at her, 'Yep. Couldn't stand it.'
By this point we were fairly soul-destroyed by the zoo, and felt we needed to go to a place where the exhibits on display were a bit happier, prettier and less expensive. Oh did we find it. Did we ever find it. Sure you could go to the MET, the MOMA and all those other 'art' places for your aesthetic overload, but we discovered somewhere far, far superior. Superior to the point of death. Lydia slowly guided me into a side of New York I had never seen, as my view had been blocked the crazies wielding broken computers. She showed me the world of...Abercrombie and Fitch. Oh. Dear. Lord.
Upon entering, the most beautiful girl I had ever seen bounded up to us and smiled, 'hi! Would you like a photo?' Before I could ask what she meant, the most beautiful man I had ever seen in my life came into view, shirtless, smiling, and waiting to pose. Myself and Lyds were so gosmacked by the beauty in the nearby vicinity we could do nothing but grin like mad fools as a polaroid was taken of us with beautiful man, and then, both of them grinning and waving, we were taken into what I can only describe as the happiest place in the world. The air vents were pumping out a scent called 'Fierce' that was a mixture between pure rugged joy and a really clean and brilliant wolf. Everyone in the shop was happy, dancing and so bloody beautiful you wanted to tear out your eyes and let them eat them. And the music. Oh the music. Some drug had been fazed into the music somehow, as all I could do was turn to Lyds and say 'Lydia.. this music... it makes me feel like.. like.. like I can do ANYTHING.' I looked into her eyes and saw the same hypnotised madness I felt in my own soul. Nothing good could come of this.
But the people though, you dont understand, they were SO happy, and dancey and chatty and BEAUTIFUL. I felt like I needed to savour every moment, because never ever again would such beautiful people look at me directly in the eyes and not slightly to the side for fear of catching something I had. It was amazing. So amazing that we both stumbled out about 7 hours later, dazed, half asleep and clutching bits of expensive material. We held them to our faces, breathed in slowly and whispered 'it smells.. it smells like them.'
Jesus. Thank you Lydia. Thank you for this gift you have shown me. There's no way I would have done this on my own. I probably would have bypassed the shop for an interesting looking 3 legged dog in a hat that limped down a nearby alley.
The final thing I have to mention in this post of hugeness, is that we went to the theatre in the evening, to see a production of Our Town, a play I'd never read, knew nothing about, but a play so famous in america that nowhere on the programme was there any information about the show. Apparently it would be a bit like writing on a Romeo and Juliet programme 'A play by Mr William Shakespeare (English)- who is dead good, about these two people who fall in love and that- not gonna give away the ending but it gets a bit nasty.' We went to the show partially because I'd heard really good things about, and mainly because Jenn Markowitz said she would hurt me if we didn't, and I just don't think she's a woman to make these claims lightly. She knew someone in it, a man called Jeff, who was to meet us for a drink after. All of this, you can imagine, made us very bloody worried we wouldn't like the show, we've have to sneak off at the interval, quit facebook and become children of the rivers- (not a life that would suit lydia). Fotunately, it was bloody brilliant. Thank God. The acting was subtle and lovely, the ensemble was ridiculously strong, the staging was just genius and there was a bit with a curtain that suddenly made you realise the sheer power of curtains. It was wonderful and thoughtful and made you, for want of a better way of putting it, really really glad you were alive. How ridiculous, I know, but its true. So well done everyone. It was good. Quite enough of that I think. We ended up in a bar with a few of the cast and crew, -it turned out we'd crashed Jeff's date, but at least made him buy us a drink to make up for it. After a great chat and lovely beer (mmm the taste of free), Jeff left to get a bus, leaving us a little awkwardly with all the people we didn't know. The only option at this stage was to arm wrestle the producer. That done, we skipped out into the rainy night and danced home- and howww nice it was to have someone else to discuss it all with other than my own brain (sorry brain, you're very nice too).
So yes. Wow. Sorry I've gone on and on. Waiting for the exterminator to come and free us of mice (I'll tell him to avoid Adrain) so I really have nothing to do until he breaks upon us. Oh and we've got bedbugs too. Lydia, I forgot to tell you that bit. If you're reading this now, we have. If you've got a bite, its a bedbug one. So don't worry that its plague. Cos its not. Its bedbugs. Hope thats ok. NEEWWWW YOOOORRKKKKKKKK!
Monday, June 1, 2009
Conversation ii
There's a very big difference between trouble happening to you, and you happening to some trouble. Today, I discovered this for myself. And you all (and especially Katherine,) shall hear it.
I think, up till now I can say with an-admittedly small-degree of confidence that any madness that occurred to me, was mostly stumbled across, rather than sought out (with the exception of the Engrams, fair enough.) Today however, I heard the faint call of madness, and rather than turning up my sanity ipod, I ripped off my headphones and wandered happily towards the source. Why? well, why not eh?
So today it was lovely and sunny, and as I'd done weekendy worky things again, I had the day off and I decided that I wanted to go to the park to work on my tan. (Ha. By 'work on my tan', i obviously mean 'get ever more freckled.' If any member of my immediate family accidently step out of the shadows for 15 seconds, they turn the colour of a freshly baked fairy cake. If I lie in the sun for 9 hours, with no suncream and holding up a magnifying glass, all that happens is that my follicle freckle guards call for reinforcements. Major reinforcements. I end up looks like a child's puzzle. Very sad.)
Anyway, there I was, Central Park, soaking up that skyline. Central Park is massive, by the way. Really though. It just goes on and on. I thought to myself, before I leave, I really want to find the fountain that all the 'Friends' do all their happy frolicking in. Standing with these thoughts in the middle of a busy fieldy type bit, I hear a voice behind me, 'looking for somewhere to go?'
I look round, and a man of about perhaps 45, of Indian/puertorican origin (fact- he told me himself, so I'm not even le racist.) with long long silver hair all piled up on his head, one very wonky eye, carrying what looked like a broken computer monitor on a string in his arms. Clearly, this was the person I was meant to meet here.
I laughed, and said 'oh no, I'm just.. waiting, for my friend.'
A cunning and foolproof opening gambit, I'm sure you'll agree.
'Ah. Where is your friend? I shall show you the best parts of central park! Where are you from eh?'
I told him. Seemed like the sensible road to take.
'England! ahh I showed a girl from dublin around the other day! Lovely girl! Come, I can show you the water, the boats are beautiful! I shall show you!'
'But... my friend, erm...'
'Is this a male friend?'
I decided that he was. And I also decided that he was the kind of friend that would be really annoyed if I was late for a meeting. Bit annoying like that, very anal about things, but a good soul. Oh and freaking massive. He's built like a shed, I decided.
'Do you have a phone? You call him! Tell him you will be back in 10 minutes! I will just show you the boats! The fountain!'
Ok, ok. ok. I know what you're thinking (dad), you would be mad to go off with blah blah blah, probably actually a lion blah blah. But this was 2pm on a sunny monday afternoon. Central park was HEAVING with people. There was nowhere to hide anything. He had a gimpy eye. All of these things weighed in my favour in the 'but will he try and murder me' stakes that we invariably play with strangers. I had no plans. I wanted to see the fountain. but EVEN so, I was still leaning towards the 'no thanks, my massive mate will bloody do you if you try anything' type option. And then I noticed something that made me change my mind. On the broken computer monitor he was carrying, I noticed that on the back was a weird pencil sketching of a cartoon goth man. I pointed at it, and made noises
'Ahh yes. I found this! I found it, and i loved the way the lines were so strong, so strict. I decided to draw on it, mirror the lines with the man's strong face. I am an artist, you see.' The man had drawn on a broken computer monitor. In pencil. And then attached it to a bit of string and carried it round. I was sold. 'Ok sure, 10 minutes wont hurt eh?' I said brightly, and off we went, with me staying very much in the bright sunshine, and making lots of eyecontact with passing strangers, just in case.
'So, where abouts in England are you from?'
'Near Manchester, in the North.'
His face broke in a grin, 'ahhhh Manchester! You guys are my friends!'
Slightly confused by intrigued nevertheless, i waited for a reason. None came. In the end I couldnt take it, 'why are we your friends?'
He looked at me (sort of). 'I will teach you something now! Something I bet you didn't know! The people from Manchester, back in the 1600's, they smuggled in machetes for the people of puertorico! Against the wishes of the government! The people of Manchester gave weapons to the public, and gave them back their power! You see that is why they are called MACH-etes. After 'MANCH-ester!' eh?'
Now. I haven't look up the origin of the machete, I'll admit. maybe someone can set me right, but I always thought it had an Eastern birth. The idea that a 1600 Manquinian mobster had handed a bent sword over to the spanish on the down low hadn't really occured to me. So much had never occured to me that I had absolutely nothing to say. I thought for a bit. and then, after a while I said,
'Sorry, machetes.. invented in... in Manchester?'
He grinned and nodded.
'Manchester. The northern town in England?'
He breathed in the clean air and strode on. I suppose so.
So we continued to walk onwards, and soon reached the lovely fountainy rowing boat area, and I happily took touristy pictures, insisted that I got one of him, and waved away his offer to take one of me, a bit worried that he might grab it, shout 'oh! A camera! Invented in Skegness, 2006 by Kate Thornton!' and run away laughing.
This was going very well, I thought. I mean sure, he's obviously a bit of a mad, but he seems harmless enough, and hey, who am I to assume his historical knowledge isn't what really happened after all! Go Manchester! Saviour of the spanish people!
Sadly, all of a sudden, it had to go a bit wrong.
'You see, usually, down there, is where I do my Yoga.' He pointed towards a foresty grove with a sign outside it that read 'murderers cavern'.
'I'll show you? Show you the forest part?' He looked at me hopefully.
Suddenly my pissed off massive friend started to ring me. Silently. But he was ringing alright.
Oh the art of the 'fake phone conversation'. I have honed it over many years of not trusting taxi drivers when riding alone.
'Hi Mum, just on the way back now.. will be about 20 minutes..... yep. the registration plate? What do you want that number for?.. oh mum I'm sure it'll be fine.. mum come on... well.. alright if you insist... and the Taxi driver's name and licence number too? A physical description and any striking attributes? Oh you do worry mum don't you, you silly thing. But ok then...'
etc.
I got off the phone and informed my guide sadly that I really was due back at the grassy field. My date was very worried about me. His brow furrowed. 'No, wait, I just want to show you this area, its so beautiful, the light, really-'
'No, its just, I.. erm.. I really dont like heights.'
The foresty bit was on a slight incline. By all accounts, this was a fairly ridiculous thing to say.
'It... it isn't high.'
'yeahhhh but.. you know.. I get scared really easily, ahahaha, wont catch me up that empire state building, thats for sure hahahaha. hahaha.'
He looked at me sadly. The monitor drooped in a disappointed way.
'Ok, ok, I'll take you back. We'll go round.'
At this point I was thinking that everything really had gone wonderfully, and was congratulating myself on going with my computer art based instinct. Sadly, then things took a slight turn for the mad.
'You know, I am a lucky man!'
'Oh yes?'
'Last week, I came here, met a girl in the park, she ended up taking me to a fancy hotel bar, bought me champange! 4 glasses for 100 dollars! We ended up at a party, and only parted ways at 6 in the morning, it was wonderful.'
He looked sideways at me (obviously), and a bit hopefully. I kicked a leaf.
'Shannon, her name was. She was a lawyer!'
I suddenly wondered whether that lawyer was the same one the subway naked man had gotten to pose for him. It seems that 'having a lawyer' involved in some way is the benchmark by which you an call yourself not a mad. As I was musing back on the hilarity of the naked subwayer, my companion said
'You know, I am an artist, I often ask girls to model for me. But usually we go out to dinner first, as you know, they get, they worry about me, they think I am frightening.'
I nodded, hoping he'd take from that whatever he wanted.
'Do you think that you would like to-'
'WOW central park is huge isn't it!' I said VERY loudly, DETERMINED that I was not going to end up in another ridiculous subwayer situation. Even if he wasn't going to say that. Not worth the risk. Not the greatest observation, to be sure, but it was all I had on the spot.
We were nearing the field again now, and crunching through a bit of leafy-tree-y bit, he said huskily 'this area is, is very romantic, yes?'
I decided to have a brisk coughing fit.
We reached the opening of the field-y bit, and it suddenly occured to me that he might assume he was walking me TO me friend. my friend who, on the whole, didn't exist. Oh dear.
'What are you doing tomorrow?'
'oh erm.. I dont know.. my, my flatmate is organising something for us to.. do. I think, erm-'
'Do you have the internet?'
'Its just gone down actually.'
'Do you have an email address?'
Yes. Yes I did. NatashaYak@gmail.com was back to the rescue, despite her terrible personality problems.
'I will email you, we can meet up again! I'll show you the cove.'
I made some sort of noise, and tried to walk away in the most final, well, see you later then, way possible. He continued to step with me. Dismayed, I stopped, and wondered what the hell I was going to do. As my mind was full of fretting, he said
'I don't do abdominal work-out, you know.'
'I'm sorry?'
'Its all Yoga. You see my chest? Touch it.'
I politely declined.
'I don't do any crunches, anything like that. It's all just Yoga.'
I assured him that I could believe it. Shook his hand. And bid him farewall. I started to walk away, but did a little look round on the pretence of a final wave and he was STILL bloody watching me, looking a bit confused. 'Your friend?'
I nodded wildly, and then.. oh and then.. oh god.
I saw a man (yes) walking in the same direction as me (ie AWAY from Yoga) and without thinking (WHY without thinking???) caught him up, and apologised. Step one, always apologise to a stranger for no reason. That out of the way, I quickly explained that I needed him to pretend to be my friend for the next thirty seconds, so that a man who had sort of ish started following me a bit would leave me alone. Oh dear. Oh the shame.
The man, was ,not surprisingly, rather surprised. And I apologised again. Its what we Brits do best. Then I thanked him. We do that well too. I looked round one more time and Yoga was walking away. What a mess I am. Spencer- my best friend- asked me, interrupting my alternate thanks and apologies, when he started following me. And, well.. well he didn't, did he? It was all my fault. I made up some lie, as seems to be my custom these days about him talking to me at the fountain, left out the bit where I was entranced by a line drawing of a computer goth, and thanked him again. Bemusedly, he said it was fine, we turned a corner and went our seperate ways. 5 weeks in New York and I've finally done it. I've become a mad. Maybe Yoga came to this city as a fresh British girl set on a 6 week internship, but his fascination with the crazies landed him with long silvery hair, a funny eye and a penchant for expensive champagne. I just glimpsed my future, and its not looking good. Oh well. At least I'll have superior upper arm strength, and I'll never even need an abdominal workout.
I think, up till now I can say with an-admittedly small-degree of confidence that any madness that occurred to me, was mostly stumbled across, rather than sought out (with the exception of the Engrams, fair enough.) Today however, I heard the faint call of madness, and rather than turning up my sanity ipod, I ripped off my headphones and wandered happily towards the source. Why? well, why not eh?
So today it was lovely and sunny, and as I'd done weekendy worky things again, I had the day off and I decided that I wanted to go to the park to work on my tan. (Ha. By 'work on my tan', i obviously mean 'get ever more freckled.' If any member of my immediate family accidently step out of the shadows for 15 seconds, they turn the colour of a freshly baked fairy cake. If I lie in the sun for 9 hours, with no suncream and holding up a magnifying glass, all that happens is that my follicle freckle guards call for reinforcements. Major reinforcements. I end up looks like a child's puzzle. Very sad.)
Anyway, there I was, Central Park, soaking up that skyline. Central Park is massive, by the way. Really though. It just goes on and on. I thought to myself, before I leave, I really want to find the fountain that all the 'Friends' do all their happy frolicking in. Standing with these thoughts in the middle of a busy fieldy type bit, I hear a voice behind me, 'looking for somewhere to go?'
I look round, and a man of about perhaps 45, of Indian/puertorican origin (fact- he told me himself, so I'm not even le racist.) with long long silver hair all piled up on his head, one very wonky eye, carrying what looked like a broken computer monitor on a string in his arms. Clearly, this was the person I was meant to meet here.
I laughed, and said 'oh no, I'm just.. waiting, for my friend.'
A cunning and foolproof opening gambit, I'm sure you'll agree.
'Ah. Where is your friend? I shall show you the best parts of central park! Where are you from eh?'
I told him. Seemed like the sensible road to take.
'England! ahh I showed a girl from dublin around the other day! Lovely girl! Come, I can show you the water, the boats are beautiful! I shall show you!'
'But... my friend, erm...'
'Is this a male friend?'
I decided that he was. And I also decided that he was the kind of friend that would be really annoyed if I was late for a meeting. Bit annoying like that, very anal about things, but a good soul. Oh and freaking massive. He's built like a shed, I decided.
'Do you have a phone? You call him! Tell him you will be back in 10 minutes! I will just show you the boats! The fountain!'
Ok, ok. ok. I know what you're thinking (dad), you would be mad to go off with blah blah blah, probably actually a lion blah blah. But this was 2pm on a sunny monday afternoon. Central park was HEAVING with people. There was nowhere to hide anything. He had a gimpy eye. All of these things weighed in my favour in the 'but will he try and murder me' stakes that we invariably play with strangers. I had no plans. I wanted to see the fountain. but EVEN so, I was still leaning towards the 'no thanks, my massive mate will bloody do you if you try anything' type option. And then I noticed something that made me change my mind. On the broken computer monitor he was carrying, I noticed that on the back was a weird pencil sketching of a cartoon goth man. I pointed at it, and made noises
'Ahh yes. I found this! I found it, and i loved the way the lines were so strong, so strict. I decided to draw on it, mirror the lines with the man's strong face. I am an artist, you see.' The man had drawn on a broken computer monitor. In pencil. And then attached it to a bit of string and carried it round. I was sold. 'Ok sure, 10 minutes wont hurt eh?' I said brightly, and off we went, with me staying very much in the bright sunshine, and making lots of eyecontact with passing strangers, just in case.
'So, where abouts in England are you from?'
'Near Manchester, in the North.'
His face broke in a grin, 'ahhhh Manchester! You guys are my friends!'
Slightly confused by intrigued nevertheless, i waited for a reason. None came. In the end I couldnt take it, 'why are we your friends?'
He looked at me (sort of). 'I will teach you something now! Something I bet you didn't know! The people from Manchester, back in the 1600's, they smuggled in machetes for the people of puertorico! Against the wishes of the government! The people of Manchester gave weapons to the public, and gave them back their power! You see that is why they are called MACH-etes. After 'MANCH-ester!' eh?'
Now. I haven't look up the origin of the machete, I'll admit. maybe someone can set me right, but I always thought it had an Eastern birth. The idea that a 1600 Manquinian mobster had handed a bent sword over to the spanish on the down low hadn't really occured to me. So much had never occured to me that I had absolutely nothing to say. I thought for a bit. and then, after a while I said,
'Sorry, machetes.. invented in... in Manchester?'
He grinned and nodded.
'Manchester. The northern town in England?'
He breathed in the clean air and strode on. I suppose so.
So we continued to walk onwards, and soon reached the lovely fountainy rowing boat area, and I happily took touristy pictures, insisted that I got one of him, and waved away his offer to take one of me, a bit worried that he might grab it, shout 'oh! A camera! Invented in Skegness, 2006 by Kate Thornton!' and run away laughing.
This was going very well, I thought. I mean sure, he's obviously a bit of a mad, but he seems harmless enough, and hey, who am I to assume his historical knowledge isn't what really happened after all! Go Manchester! Saviour of the spanish people!
Sadly, all of a sudden, it had to go a bit wrong.
'You see, usually, down there, is where I do my Yoga.' He pointed towards a foresty grove with a sign outside it that read 'murderers cavern'.
'I'll show you? Show you the forest part?' He looked at me hopefully.
Suddenly my pissed off massive friend started to ring me. Silently. But he was ringing alright.
Oh the art of the 'fake phone conversation'. I have honed it over many years of not trusting taxi drivers when riding alone.
'Hi Mum, just on the way back now.. will be about 20 minutes..... yep. the registration plate? What do you want that number for?.. oh mum I'm sure it'll be fine.. mum come on... well.. alright if you insist... and the Taxi driver's name and licence number too? A physical description and any striking attributes? Oh you do worry mum don't you, you silly thing. But ok then...'
etc.
I got off the phone and informed my guide sadly that I really was due back at the grassy field. My date was very worried about me. His brow furrowed. 'No, wait, I just want to show you this area, its so beautiful, the light, really-'
'No, its just, I.. erm.. I really dont like heights.'
The foresty bit was on a slight incline. By all accounts, this was a fairly ridiculous thing to say.
'It... it isn't high.'
'yeahhhh but.. you know.. I get scared really easily, ahahaha, wont catch me up that empire state building, thats for sure hahahaha. hahaha.'
He looked at me sadly. The monitor drooped in a disappointed way.
'Ok, ok, I'll take you back. We'll go round.'
At this point I was thinking that everything really had gone wonderfully, and was congratulating myself on going with my computer art based instinct. Sadly, then things took a slight turn for the mad.
'You know, I am a lucky man!'
'Oh yes?'
'Last week, I came here, met a girl in the park, she ended up taking me to a fancy hotel bar, bought me champange! 4 glasses for 100 dollars! We ended up at a party, and only parted ways at 6 in the morning, it was wonderful.'
He looked sideways at me (obviously), and a bit hopefully. I kicked a leaf.
'Shannon, her name was. She was a lawyer!'
I suddenly wondered whether that lawyer was the same one the subway naked man had gotten to pose for him. It seems that 'having a lawyer' involved in some way is the benchmark by which you an call yourself not a mad. As I was musing back on the hilarity of the naked subwayer, my companion said
'You know, I am an artist, I often ask girls to model for me. But usually we go out to dinner first, as you know, they get, they worry about me, they think I am frightening.'
I nodded, hoping he'd take from that whatever he wanted.
'Do you think that you would like to-'
'WOW central park is huge isn't it!' I said VERY loudly, DETERMINED that I was not going to end up in another ridiculous subwayer situation. Even if he wasn't going to say that. Not worth the risk. Not the greatest observation, to be sure, but it was all I had on the spot.
We were nearing the field again now, and crunching through a bit of leafy-tree-y bit, he said huskily 'this area is, is very romantic, yes?'
I decided to have a brisk coughing fit.
We reached the opening of the field-y bit, and it suddenly occured to me that he might assume he was walking me TO me friend. my friend who, on the whole, didn't exist. Oh dear.
'What are you doing tomorrow?'
'oh erm.. I dont know.. my, my flatmate is organising something for us to.. do. I think, erm-'
'Do you have the internet?'
'Its just gone down actually.'
'Do you have an email address?'
Yes. Yes I did. NatashaYak@gmail.com was back to the rescue, despite her terrible personality problems.
'I will email you, we can meet up again! I'll show you the cove.'
I made some sort of noise, and tried to walk away in the most final, well, see you later then, way possible. He continued to step with me. Dismayed, I stopped, and wondered what the hell I was going to do. As my mind was full of fretting, he said
'I don't do abdominal work-out, you know.'
'I'm sorry?'
'Its all Yoga. You see my chest? Touch it.'
I politely declined.
'I don't do any crunches, anything like that. It's all just Yoga.'
I assured him that I could believe it. Shook his hand. And bid him farewall. I started to walk away, but did a little look round on the pretence of a final wave and he was STILL bloody watching me, looking a bit confused. 'Your friend?'
I nodded wildly, and then.. oh and then.. oh god.
I saw a man (yes) walking in the same direction as me (ie AWAY from Yoga) and without thinking (WHY without thinking???) caught him up, and apologised. Step one, always apologise to a stranger for no reason. That out of the way, I quickly explained that I needed him to pretend to be my friend for the next thirty seconds, so that a man who had sort of ish started following me a bit would leave me alone. Oh dear. Oh the shame.
The man, was ,not surprisingly, rather surprised. And I apologised again. Its what we Brits do best. Then I thanked him. We do that well too. I looked round one more time and Yoga was walking away. What a mess I am. Spencer- my best friend- asked me, interrupting my alternate thanks and apologies, when he started following me. And, well.. well he didn't, did he? It was all my fault. I made up some lie, as seems to be my custom these days about him talking to me at the fountain, left out the bit where I was entranced by a line drawing of a computer goth, and thanked him again. Bemusedly, he said it was fine, we turned a corner and went our seperate ways. 5 weeks in New York and I've finally done it. I've become a mad. Maybe Yoga came to this city as a fresh British girl set on a 6 week internship, but his fascination with the crazies landed him with long silvery hair, a funny eye and a penchant for expensive champagne. I just glimpsed my future, and its not looking good. Oh well. At least I'll have superior upper arm strength, and I'll never even need an abdominal workout.
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