The Saw

At Union Square Subway station, there is a large common area where the N and 4 5 6 trains and the L are all accessible.  In this area different forms of entertainment showcase.  Many of them are worth watching and donating towards.  But there is one- a middle-aged woman ‘saw’ player who is heard the minute one pushes through the turnstile, hundreds of feet away.  At that point she is not in sight, but the high pitched wailing and timbre of the bending metal, her horsehair bow crossing the back of the flexing saw can be heard, oh so loudly.  It makes my teeth want to gnash.  I would give her money just to get her to stop.  I don’t know how the space is booked, but she is there at least a couple of afternoons a week as I pass through. She sells CD’s though I have yet to see someone pay.  I wonder if she is banished to the subway, because imagine what it would be like to live anywhere near her when she is practicing.  There is no picture to show you, because taking a picture implies like and like implies a donation.  I do not want to encourage her.

Passwords

You’ve all read about the Sony hack.  Words said, opinions shared, salaries discussed, social security numbers breached.  And you are exhorted to change your password frequently.  Does anyone really think it makes a difference?  It just depends how high up the ‘important scale’ you are.

The Sandwich

Last evening on the subway, a poorly dressed, bleary-eyed man with scruffy face hair boarded the car I was in, as the doors were closing.  He immediately began with his pitch that he needed help.  He mentioned something about a child, housing, a place to sleep but none of it was particularly easy to follow.  When he reached the part about asking for help, it could be money or food, I waited to see what the pitch was.  He was clear about that, it could be food or money, anything would be appreciated.  So I reached down into my bag, pulled out the plastic bag that contained the neat container holding a liverwurst sandwich with all the trimmings.  As he approached, I held up the handled bag to him and said, ‘It’s a sandwich’.  He took it gratefully and graciously.  What he didn’t know was the trip that sandwich had made.  It had been driven in a 2015 Maserati from a swank County Club in Westchester, where it had been made by the Club Chef.  It deserved a no more worthy recipient.

Santacon

The quote below  [Time] puts it so nicely.
‘People dressed as Santa Claus and Mrs. Claus celebrate in Times Square as they gather for the annual Santacon festivities on Dec. 13, 2014 in New York.
Organizers had promised to tone down the annual booze-soaked event this yearUndaunted by the popular backlash against the notoriously rowdy annual gathering, Santacon returned to the streets of New York this year, with thousands donning Santa suits on Saturday for the annual booze-and-Christmas-cheer-fueled bar crawl.’

In theory they are raising money for charity.  What it looks like however is a lot of frat boys dressed up in red with hats, drinking as early as 10 am on a Saturday morning and not stopping until someone puts them in a cab to save them from certain death of alcohol poisoning.  And what it sounds like is that groups of them find no better place to stand and call to each other than on my street.  The saving grace this year, it is cold! And the cold keeps the females from pub crawling, they are more likely to stay put.  Only when they all gather in Times Square  – I have no information why they do, or what they are hearing –

This link will give you a visual:   Time.com/3632806/santacon-new-york-christmas

My Fantasy

The following link is to a story, I find enthralling.  The title is: Deathbed confession sends New York family on $4.5m treasure hunt.  It is akin to my favorite joke.  A wife was sitting for a portrait in her living room.  At the moment her son walked in on the session, the artist was painting an emerald and diamond necklace at her neck on the canvas. ‘What’s with that?’ he asked. ‘You don’t own such a piece and besides you aren’t wearing it!’  “I know.’ replied the mother, ‘But if something happens to me and your dad remarries, his new wife will drive herself mad searching for it.’

http://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2014/dec/10/deathbed-confession-new-york-family-treasure-hunt