New York City. winter 2005. just another day.

my day starts early. something pulls me out of bed. it's this city. still some hangover from last night. where was I last night? the line between reality and dreams doesn't exist in this place. can't recall what is real and what I dreamt. can't recall if it matters. I have a cello. it's rented. I decide to go and play in the subway. I take a train, get off somewhere busy. I find my spot, put my hat on the floor and start playing. what am I playing? I don't know. I let the notes play themselves. I improvise. people passing by. nobody gives a shit about the cellist. I decide not to give a shit back. I close my eyes and let the music flow. after some time, it gets a little crazy. when a train comes, I really go crazy, because of all the noise around. how much time has passed? time is different in this city. every day is like a lifetime somewhere else. I open my eyes. a little girl is sitting and staring at me. she looks fascinated, but a little scared. I decide to play something nicer. I start. a few seconds are passing and she gets up. she goes away, looking disappointed. I learn my lesson. do your thing, don't try to please anyone. thanks honey. I go on. time passes by. I open my eyes again. my hat is full of 1$ bills. at the bottom lying comfortably is also a 50$ bill. I love new york. I grab my stuff, go to my friends and drop the cello. I go out again. it's freezing, who cares. a woman is crying in the street. she's puerto-rican or something. she's also around 200 kg. someone is speaking from my throat. he's asking her what happend. she says my husband left me. he says I'm too fat. I look at her again. is she really surprised? we talk a little. finally I decide on a tactics. I tell her screw him. you're beautiful. if he can't see it, his problem. she settles down. then she starts yelling again. yea! I'm a beautiful mama! fuck the bitch! I'm scared. I go. I wander around in the streets. so many people. so much hurry. everything is busy. thousands of people going in thousands of directions to do thousands of things, thinking thousands of thoughts. this place can make you feel small. I found myself in chinatown. it's amazing. I see a sign, foot massage, 10$. I say what the hell. I go in. a little girl is rubbing my feet. she must be 12. some time passes. time is different in this city. another girl comes in, she is older. maybe 14. she gives me the real prices. and the real jobs they do. am I really surprised? I take only a full body massage. blowjob possible, sir sure? yes sure. am I sure? I get out after about an hour. or was it a lifetime? I'm relaxed. very relaxed. not for long. I call a friend. hanuka party. come. I go. people. lights. candles. food. party. noise. I'm crowded. I go out. I take this girl to see omer avital trio. they kick ass. down in the street a man is singing to himself and to the world "here comes the bride". he is all fucked up. probably heroine. no bride is coming for you anytime soon man. I think about all the crazy fuckers in this city. I wonder why they all go nuts. I decide it's the loneliness. being lonely when you're surrounded with 10 million people all the time. that's though. when you're alone in the middle of the desert you don't feel alone. the city loneliness is cruel. I get sad. then I think about it some more. maybe the crazyness is in all of us anyway. maybe people in this city just allow themselves to be who they really are. the singing man pukes all over himself. maybe it was just alcohol. the girl and me go get sushi. we have 12 bottles of saki. we look in the eye. we laugh till we drool. everything is mixing. reality and dream and time and people and me. we take a taxi. the driver is indian. we talk about his city in india. I've been there. we laugh about the chai shop we both know. we laugh about india and about new york. we both agree, it's very very different. we laugh all the way. when we get there he suddenly gets serious. he says, you know my friend, new york is very different from india. very different. then he looks at me in the mirror, gives me a big indian smile, and says: but sometimes same same.

just a day in new york city. winter 2005.

 

love you all,

shai