Coming home today

I got off the subway at Spring Street. Took a walk through SoHo to the Indi Theater on Houston to see what was currently playing. I could have just as easily looked movies up online at work but I liked the luxury of seeing for myself what was on the marquis. I love marquis. Too bad they are not given the importance they once had in advertising entertainment.

Walking back from the theater, disappointed by the choices. I can’t wit till next week’s releases. A film I set dressed last summer was picked up at Sundance and has been getting great press for it young leads and amazing soundtrack.

I stopped at a patisserie where a fey young black pastry chef talked my into an orange brioche and a dark chocolate torte with a caramel crisp center topped with pine nuts. A few steps out the door a dirty tattoo young guy sat pathetically on the sidewalk asking for change. I said I had none and walked by only to reconsider and turned and offer him the brioche.

There was no way he was getting my torte. He accepted it without making eye contact and gave a sheepish half heart thanks.

I checked out one of my favorite soho stores Evolution. Thought about investing in starting a cabinet of oddities. I eyed scorpions and colorful beetle in glass vile, fossils, and monkey paws all under $20. I decided to wait till fall and maybe build my own cabinet.

I walked past my old employer building. A crazy Israeli artist who placed a suspicious village voice ad for an artist assistant and despite my instinct responded to. It was a fine job, easy money photoshoping unoriginal photos he took around New York and then blew up and mounted on plexi glass to sell to tourist and people with a lot of wall space and no artistic taste.

Got paid under the table and spent most of my time in his studio space/ apartment dodging his random bunch of hanger ons and noxious personal hippie assistant whom all wanted to share their life story despite my obvious disinterest.

One of the things I liked most about the job was walking through his neighborhood and the pleasant smells that I would pass on the way to his apartment. The high end coffee shop, the patisserie, and the amazing soap shop feet from his grungy door way. I liked how the pleasant smell of what ever soap of the day was being hand made in the shop juxtaposed the pissed stained door to his building and constant guard of sad bearded homeless person sitting by it with out stretch hand.

On the subway I sat by a young lesbian couple sporting rainbow wrist bands and anklets. Today was the guy pride parade. They dressed sporty and were both natural pretty.

An absurdly large family sat on the end of the train car. There was a load mid western looking man with a very blonde child on his lap and about 10 other Scandinavian looking children ranging in ages surrounding him. They seemed mid western and I wondered if they were Mormons. They kids were half sullen and the other half obnoxiously engaging. I was glad I was not sitting closer to them. Happy to be by the loving lesbians.

I wondered what these two worlds may have thought of one another. Everyone one eyed the large family with suspension. They were so out of place, I think a Muslim man would have gone little noticed next to them. The lesbians got off at the next stop and I could see the older kids eyeing them and whispering while their parents fain disinterest.