Wednesday, August 10, 2011

color me...


yesterday, if i was a little kid, i'd have stomped my foot.

what follows is my pictorial review of an annoying day. (be prepared. these are not: my car broke down then got hit by a bus type of annoyances. but this was my yesterday and i've got to blog about something.)

it began at lunch. in an effort to get out into the world more, i've decided to treat myself once a week-ish to a working lunch in a restaurant. i headed to a new french coffee shop in the 'hood. it's common for a nyc lunch to run the lunchee $15 to $20, but i shopped the outside menu. everything was well in my range of cheapness. between $4.50 and $7.95.

anticipation grew when i stepped inside and saw a sandwich that looked like this:

yes, folks. as you guessed, that's a sandwich covered in melted cheese with a giant delicious salad next to it.

in an effort to be, i dunno, adventurous? i went for the special. a tartine with avocado, fresh ricotta, pears and a black pepper honey. possibly yum-yum, right?

yeah. this was my plate.

for the record. those are two cucumbers at the bottom of the cutting board.

i'd never realized tartine translated as: toast with bits of stuff. lo and behold, check comes and it's the most expensive thing on the menu. had i known, i would have ordered the smoked duck over green beans. i would have ordered the cheese drenched sandwich. i would have ordered three things and not gotten to the price of my three triangles of bread. i wanted to cry, how can you charge $11 for produce from the bodega?!

instead i ordered a coffee and tried to ignore that i was as hungry as when i walked in.

cut to spanish class:

why do the people with the most inane thoughts always have the most to say?

we've begun class presentations about spanish speaking countries. same guy as above does the music of Uruguay and the first youtube clip he shows is of a japanese band with japanese subtitles. sigh.

cut to the other guy who simply needs to speak in english. when asked if he thinks all movies end happily (as one classmate had said), he answers (in english): "you're asking what kind of movies i like? oh, i like, kung-fu. actione. fantastica."

a. no that's not what we were asking. b. i'm pretty sure not one of those responses was spanish. at all.


worse than any of this is the fact that the more effort i make at learning spanish, the worse i get. granted, when i speak spanish i say spanish words that keep up with the english ones in my head, so sure, the translation is bound to be off. the other night at work i was prattling on in my corrie spanish. when i finished speaking there was a stunned silence, into which my one friend said: "dude, that was terrible."

granted, said friend is the guy who when i commented that i'd gained a little weight and felt it in my belly, replied, "yeah, and you can also see it in your face." (i love having boys as friends.) but still...

last tonight i couldn't make it through one spanish sentence without realizing in advance that the entire thing made no sense. i left class feeling annoyed, dense, and popsicle like from the air conditioning.

what greets me out front of the building? the wall street bull. or, rather, tourists taking these kinds of pictures:

it's been the same since i began my spanish class. yes, occasionally tourists take pictures in front of the bull, but 9 out of 10 take pictures of themselves coming out of the bull's rear. or fondling his, uh, stuff. this tendency transcends all cultures. maybe that should make me feel better. last night, it just made me wonder what the freak is up with mankind?

maybe this is why writers write. without the mandated solitude, we'd be forced to be out in the world like normal humans and it would turn us into petulant, little tyrants.
back at home, i imagined the tyrant safely put away for the night. corrie would be annoyed by no one else that evening.

around 3 a.m. a beetle made it's way into my apartment. it careened around my ceiling then threw itself into a dusty corner. i found it with a flash light, rolled up paper in hand to squash it. but the little guy was too cute. he kept walking into the baseboard trying to find a way out. i got a glass and trapped him.

"i'll help you lil' buddy," i said, as i slid paper beneath the glass. "no worries." (yes, when i save bugs lives i speak like an australian cowboy).

or not.

lil' buddy's head made a terrible crunching sound when i accidentally decapitated it. his legs kept wiggling. i felt awful.

at least yesterday is behind me. i woke this morning to a text inviting me to a soulgasm dance party. whether that pans out or not, i'm making a point of today being the kind of day that you can color me: peaceful.

1 comment:

  1. Aw . . . sounds like one of those days. I think the beetle had even a worse day, though, all in all, if that makes you feel any better. (Sorry, that was sort of perverse, wasn't it.) Thanks for trying to free the little critter. A postcard makes a good lid for the bug evacuation kit (jar and lid), slides under the jar nicely and is easier to hold down on the jar. Here's to many peaceful days!