1. Tiresias and Truman Capote: every day on my block, around 6pm, an emaciated man wearing ruby-red silk payamas walks his dog, an equally emaciated blind old poodle (simply wiggling his tail makes his limbs shakeshakeshake, r-a-t-t-l-e), who always points his hollow iridescent corneas at me and frankly bugs me out. I call them Tiresias (like the bind seer in Oedipus) and Truman Capote (minus the body fat)
2. Dr. Z and his subway ads: in a series of ads on the subway, famous (infamous?) dermatholgist Dr. Z encourages the MTA riders to take a pop quiz to evaluate if they need a little nip'n'tuck. First question, "How many chins do you have?". I mean, are you serious?
3. The ethical hopscotch, the unspoken, softly spoken, shouted codes of conduct and morality (sex, friendship, politics, religion, income, education) one has to figure out along the way when living in New York City, like invisible lines you must be careful not to tread upon: every day on my way to work I walk past a peddler, squatting on the sidewalk near Lincoln Center, with a dog, a cart (or a bundle of newspapers, rags and miscellaneous belongings) and the traditional "help me" sign. His says: "Shalom. Hungry Jew".
I walked past him again a few days later and the word "Jew" had been crossed out. I wonder who told him to take it out and how.
Only in New York City.
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