I think it's undeniable today that I am, at least in some small part, eccentric.
On sunny days I sometimes go sit outside on my lunch hour, usually across from a certain monument. I went out there today, and I was the only person sitting out there, just looking at the sunlight bouncing off the snow and the traffic go by. I'm sure everyone who passed thought I was some crackpot, as they overdrazmatically huddled in their jackets and scraves. But you know, even though it was 14 degrees outside, with the sun out and not much wind it didn't really feel very cold. It wasn't until I'd been outside for about 20 minutes that I'd started to feel even a little cold. And it was only harsh when there was a huge gust of wind. Still, I guess I've become That Weirdo Who Sits Outside at Lunch Time--there's probably someone in that building who's noticed and will include me in hir memoir years hence, probably saying something like:
...and there was a young man that would sit on a bench across the street at lunchtime whenever it was sunny, even when the temperature was far below freezing. He never spoke to anyone, and I always wondered about him. Who are you, young man?? I imagined long narratives for why he came there and sometimes spent entire days dreaming about him. I came to feel a kinship with him, as if he were an old friend. I waved at him and had pretend cups of tea with him. One day I resolved to go out and meet him; I brought a basket with sandwiches and cold drinks to my office and waited for him to arrive. But alas, he was gone forever. What had happened to the mysterious young man? Had he embarked on a humanitarian journey to Nepal? Was he flying around the world in a homemade hot air baloon? Had he shrunk himself down to the size of a cell and injected himself into sick patients' bodies, to battle mano-a-mano with their disease-causing microbes? I fear I may never know. But this I do know: This young man who sat there every time the sun smiled upon us will always live in my heart. And we will always share those wonderful times together, and the name I gave to him: Francis Gordon Splicklemeyer, Esquire.
Something like that, at any rate. Be looking for some kind of passage like that to appear in a few years.
In the other gooples, I hung out with V.P. and Wendy last night--Veep flies out to Paris today--I'm so jealous, sort of. I'd be more jealous if it were Paris in April. Sigh--I'd love to visit Paris, and take a side trek to Grasse to visit the fields where all the flowers for the perfume industry allegedly grow. If anyone wants to donate to the Send Ed Shepp to Paris cause or, for that matter, the Help Ed Shepp Get A Good Computer for His Birthday On February 3rd cause, click here for PayPal:
There. I'm sure that will rasie one hundred billion dollars, and I can finally buy that life-size replica of the Venus de Milo made of solid white chocolate for which I've been pining for so long. OK, back to what I was saying. ...What was I saying? Oh yes, I hung out with Veep and Wendy from Sydney. We went to a restaurant in the West Village that used to be a speakeasy. It would have been a great restaurant but for two things: the food took over 30 minutes to arrive(!!!) and the hostess was some cold German beeyotch (my favorite 'curse' word, for any Inside the Actor's Studio peeps) who seemed to be doing her damndest to impersonate a black-clad Ayn Rand. Otherwise it was great--their cider is the best I've ever had, and I even got a doggie bag for the onion rings. Yay!
And tonight I'm giong to see Fiddler on the Roof with Jason at the Minskoff. It has Harvey Firestein (sp?) in it, so it should be incresting. Although I'm iffy about watching a play for 2.75 hours. (Coming out of the closet time: I'm not big on theater; I prefer film. More on that another time.) But it should be good. I hope this is a Broadway theater, per se. I've never seen an actual Broadway show (although I have seen a number of off-off-off and off-off-off-off-off-off-off Broadway productions).
Oh, one last thing--I was a little shocked today at something I saw while walking back from my perch at lunch. Some man was holding a sign, presumably for the traffic to see, that read Sharon Has No Mandate. I couldn't believe it. I was shocked, but when I told my friend Sharon that not everyone supports her agenda (whatever that is) and mentioned that sign, she didn't seem concerned. Well, that's good, I guess.
And that's my beep for now.