Dinner for One

I saw this little girl on Broadway the other day, sitting on a tiny chair and using a crate as a table, eating by herself. She couldn't have been more than four years old. I think one of her parents was a street vendor. At least I hope so. But I didn't see her with anybody, so I'm not sure. Maybe she's just really mature for her age and lives on the street.

Love Notes

I saw this note on the ground today when I was walking around the Upper East Side. I thought it was so strange and compelling that I had to take a picture of it. It reminded me of those things that people send in to that magazine Found. There's a church near where I found the note that sometimes serves as a soup kitchen, so my theory is this: some guy had this attached to his suitcase (it had a little string at the top like a Christmas tree ornament) and it fell off. My guess is that this person has had some bad experiences with people stealing his stuff when he's stayed in shelters. He got pissed and put this note on his bag to deter future thieves. I hope it worked.

Hot Dog Asshole

So after work yesterday I went to get my bike, which was parked on Broadway, and a hot dog vendor had parked his cart right on top of it. Well, not on top of it exactly, but his cart was against the bike rack and my bike was wedged in between the cart and the rack. I was pissed and I said "You had to park your cart right next to my bike?!? There's a whole street!" He ignored me, maybe because he didn't understand English, and I tried to free my bike from his sweaty stinky hot dog cart. And then I noticed that his fucking stool was leaning against my bike. So I said "Can you get your chair off my bike??" and he moved it, all the while not saying a word to me. I continued to mutter to myself under my breath and give him dirty looks, all while he completely ignored me and sold some guy a Snapple. He didn't seem the least bit interested in me or my bike or the fact that I was upset.
I considered doing something bad to his cart, like punching a hole in it with my screwdriver or knocking over his neatly displayed bottles of water. But instead, I did nothing.

I took this picture after I freed my bike and got on it, so I could make a quick getaway.

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

I'm freelancing back at my old job. And even though I'm making twice as much money as I did when I worked here originally, I still feel like it's some sort of a failure on my part. I was really happy to leave this place and move on to bigger and better things. But it seems I moved on to smaller and worse things, because here I am, back where I started. I know I'm looking at it the wrong way. First off, I should be really happy to have work. And secondly, it's really not that bad here. It's just that when I quit almost three years ago, I was really happy to go. And coming back with my tail between my legs, needing work, makes me feel bad.
But what are you gonna do? It's better than nothing. I just need to think about that big check I'll get and how it will be awesome to be able to pay my rent for another month.
Hooray.