Sunday, August 22, 2004


My Saturday night date (#4 with this person) almost didn't happen because my babysitter's husband was around and I refuse to let the MapucheRican go there when he's there. He drinks too much. Lucky for me my date was incredibly understanding and we just moved the date later in the evening when my mother could watch the MapucheRican.

We met in the West Village and had coffee and dessert before walking up to 14th street. I like talking to this person ( I still haven't thought up of a too long nickname for him). I have very honest, real conversations with him. We talk about writing, movies, politics, and our fucked up relationship habits. He's goofy and smart. It's a sexually charged relationship with us having had sex (not for lack of trying on my part) but in a way it's kind of better this way.

So at Union Square I see him stop to talk to these people who have this sign saying "Talk to Me".
Now this man has some strange friends. He's a songwriter/musician after all. But white strange people can be a little scary to me sometimes so I hesitantly followed him to this white man and woman. I knew they weren't a cult or anything. And I figured that they were doing some sort of street theatre type thing but it turns out that this couple (are they involved? I should talk to them about that!!!) just decided to stop what they were doing and travel around the city talking to people. Now while in some ways I find it fascinating and really cool in other ways it's like damn...a Rican like me couldn't get away with that shit.

My date and I entered in the middle of a convo about whether NY was getting better or worse. I was the only native born and bred NY'er. One woman, from England, admitted that when talking about how NY was better she was only talking about Manhattan below 79th Street. Grrrr. This is why I don't want to talk to people. My patience for people who live in their own alternate realities really is close to nonexistent.


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