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if anyone wants to do a documentary on the many variations of loud, crass Northeastern accents, the train is the perfect research site. The woman in front of me consoled her friend all the way from New Haven to Penn Station about a probable case of pinkeye. Her "a's" were so harsh I could feel my neck rattle every time she said the word "overreacting," which happened approximately 12,000 times.
Upon my return I saw my therapist and filled him in on a dream I'd had about my father. He persuaded me to try to talk to an empty sofa as though my dad were sitting there. I only came up with a stiff sentence or two. I really couldn't make it feel natural since I didn't have the right prop—i.e., a concealed weapon.
I guess it's clear I'm in a bad mood. I'm back in the city and it smells like hell. Last week a woman urinated on the floor next to me in a bodega near West Fourth Street while I was using the ATM.
The cashier ran around the counter. "Which one of you just peed on the floor?" she said.
Process of elimination is a bitch sometimes.
- maud newton, "Muumuu = muse?," maud newton: blog april 28, 2004
posted May 05, 2004 in print. 20032001