03/16/2004: "I like New York in the snow"
Wet, chilly, and windy. You may call it a nasty weather. But riding into the snow this morning I had one of those defining moment. I like the change in the weather. I like the surprises. Yesterday was a perfect picnic weather, and today we're back to blizzard. Now, I had a choice between being miserable with wet snow clinging around my neck, jumping right into my eyes, gloves getting soggy, but instead I was fascinated. I loved New York in the snow. It was quiet. There was this stillness in the air. All of a sudden the clot was clearing out from my throat, blood, brain. I rode through thick cloud of steam rising from the street. I absolutely love the simulants from nature to feed my impulse. Snow makes me want to play in the Central Park. Makes me want to write. Makes me want to bake. Makes me want to cook warm soup.
On this snowy day Guida headed down to the city of sin, Las Vegas that is. Not Rikers Island.
Yesterday Meeth stopped by. She lives in D.C., but thinking about going to law school at Brooklyn College. But she's not sure if she'd really like living in New York. She doesn't think people are nice here, which I debated. At least in the Lower East Side I find people extra friendly. Coming from Tokyo, this city is extra warm. A common behavior in Japan is that they pretend 'not noticing' when someone is in trouble. I had a customer from DC last year, who said that he always met the nicest people when he came to New York. And of course the friendliest man, my friend Sid was hanging out in the restaurant. They started saying to each other, "you look familiar." Then they talked for a while and decided that they don't know each other. But they had a friendly conversation anyway. I personally don't know why people have the misconception that New York is a cold unfriendly place to be.
Then Meeth and I talked about books for a while. I told her that I'm reading John Irving's 'a son of the circus.' I told her I'd give it to her when I finish, because it's about an expatriate Indian doctor visiting Bombay, and she's Indian. Being an expatriate myself, the novel describes 'being a foreigner' quite accurately. Let me share a passage from the part I was reading last night in the tub. (I like to read while taking a bath, so all my books get soggy after a while.) "Dreamlessly, the noonday passed. Teh beach geban to cool. A slight breeze rose; it softly gave sway to the hammock where Dr. Daruwalla lay digesting. Something had left a sour taste in his mouth - the doctor suspected the vindaloo fish or the beer - and he felt flatulent. Farrokh opened his eyes slightly to see if anyone was near his hammock - in which case it would be impolite for him to fart - " Oh, how I love John Irving.