picture this: new york city. mid-forties, grey skies. an average day, right?
i woke up and did my usual things: emails, audition searching, fantasizing about the day when i open my bank of america on-line banking page and find three million dollars in it. then i strike out in search of my new favorite coffee shop.
this isn't as easy as one would think. especially with my cursory knowledge of minor streets. all i need is reasonable rates, some tables - no table service please - and the feeling that i would be welcome to sit for an hour and simply stare out the window at a cabbie's who's obviously spending his break practicing his tennis moves.
no starbucks.
today i found such a place: 9th street and avenue a. cafe pick me up. i spend an hour writing, staring at some guy's dogs out the window, and watching the aforementioned cabbie.
then i decide i'll walk uptown. sight-seeing. i just kind of take an array of north-bound streets, crossing here, going there. and here's the funny thing: the randomization of my street choices, all the time it took, those few minutes i spent at a starbucks for their only good purpose (bathrooms), the stopping to take a picture of the empire state building (my new favorite pasttime), all of these entirely random choices timed and sorted in a way which found me walking up lexington avenue at the exact moment that larry mullen jr. was walking down it. that kind of coincidence blows my mind.
i met larry mullen jr. on the streets of new york. minutes - minutes, i tell you - after seeing a giant ad for the joshua tree rerelease, minutes after half-jokingly wondering if i'd see bono when i walked in front of the united nations.
you see, it's a big deal because, well, i've met my hero-of-all-heroes, the awesome and immeasurably talented vernon reid. no sweat. very pleasant. i met moby. i shook kevin strongbow's hand and thanked him and scissorfight for coming to rochester last summer. no worries. i'm able to simply be a fan, not an absolute nut. sure, i squealed and pointed like a little girl at her first cabbage patch kid when i saw trent reznor walking out of jurassic park iii in new orleans, but come on. i was 23.
so there i am, being approached by u2's drummer. u2! this guy not only knows the edge, but probably got a christmas present from him last year! and here he was, in new york! on the street! where were the thousands of screaming fans? here was one of the four greatest musicians since the beatles, just...walking! out on the streets as if he were human. what's one to do?
i was on the phone with art, my good friend from new orleans, and he can probably tell you what i sound like when i hyperventilate with a quandary of conflicting thoughts: how do i express a deep-rooted fascination with larry mullen jr. without looking like a hayseed? i wonder if i could get a photograph? should i tell him that i want to hear "daddy's gonna pay for your crashed car" on the next tour? where's my opaque posse demo?
"larry," i say, "what's up?"
he gives me the nod. we keep walking our separate ways.
i love this city.
i woke up and did my usual things: emails, audition searching, fantasizing about the day when i open my bank of america on-line banking page and find three million dollars in it. then i strike out in search of my new favorite coffee shop.
this isn't as easy as one would think. especially with my cursory knowledge of minor streets. all i need is reasonable rates, some tables - no table service please - and the feeling that i would be welcome to sit for an hour and simply stare out the window at a cabbie's who's obviously spending his break practicing his tennis moves.
no starbucks.
today i found such a place: 9th street and avenue a. cafe pick me up. i spend an hour writing, staring at some guy's dogs out the window, and watching the aforementioned cabbie.
then i decide i'll walk uptown. sight-seeing. i just kind of take an array of north-bound streets, crossing here, going there. and here's the funny thing: the randomization of my street choices, all the time it took, those few minutes i spent at a starbucks for their only good purpose (bathrooms), the stopping to take a picture of the empire state building (my new favorite pasttime), all of these entirely random choices timed and sorted in a way which found me walking up lexington avenue at the exact moment that larry mullen jr. was walking down it. that kind of coincidence blows my mind.
i met larry mullen jr. on the streets of new york. minutes - minutes, i tell you - after seeing a giant ad for the joshua tree rerelease, minutes after half-jokingly wondering if i'd see bono when i walked in front of the united nations.
you see, it's a big deal because, well, i've met my hero-of-all-heroes, the awesome and immeasurably talented vernon reid. no sweat. very pleasant. i met moby. i shook kevin strongbow's hand and thanked him and scissorfight for coming to rochester last summer. no worries. i'm able to simply be a fan, not an absolute nut. sure, i squealed and pointed like a little girl at her first cabbage patch kid when i saw trent reznor walking out of jurassic park iii in new orleans, but come on. i was 23.
so there i am, being approached by u2's drummer. u2! this guy not only knows the edge, but probably got a christmas present from him last year! and here he was, in new york! on the street! where were the thousands of screaming fans? here was one of the four greatest musicians since the beatles, just...walking! out on the streets as if he were human. what's one to do?
i was on the phone with art, my good friend from new orleans, and he can probably tell you what i sound like when i hyperventilate with a quandary of conflicting thoughts: how do i express a deep-rooted fascination with larry mullen jr. without looking like a hayseed? i wonder if i could get a photograph? should i tell him that i want to hear "daddy's gonna pay for your crashed car" on the next tour? where's my opaque posse demo?
"larry," i say, "what's up?"
he gives me the nod. we keep walking our separate ways.
i love this city.