A Story (or, Why New York Isn't Really All That Bad):

I woke up this morning. Had my usual breakfast of Top Ramen and Coca-Cola. I commented upon how much of a college male I am. I went to school.

I sat through a lecture on Goethe's Faust in my 19th Century European Theatre class. This classroom is on the third floor of a building on Waverly Place. During the lecture, a marching band walked past. Twice (come to think of it, it could have been two marching bands each passing by once. I was not next to the wall of windows). At another time during this 75 minute class, some form of emergency vehicle drove by, sirens wailing. There was traffic. It honked, several times, sirens continuing to wail, until traffic cleared and it could move on. My professor feigned hitting her head against her desk. I think she was feigning, at any rate.

I was making a run over to Playwrights to drop off some papers and pick up some others. I ran into my roomie Aaron on the street, so I took a detour with him and went to Barnes & Noble. I picked up Neil Gaiman's new book Coraline. We parted ways, and I went to Playwrights.

Now the day gets interesting. My History of Theatre Architecture Class had a field trip today to go visit the Delacorte Theatre in Central Park. I decided to take my lunch and my books, go to Central Park early, and spend some time lounging before the rest of the class got there. 81st St. On the West Side.

A slight subway mishap. A mistake I've made more than once. I went to the A C E subway station on West 4th St. I waited for the train. I got on the train. I got on the E train, which hangs a right at 53rd St. and heads for Queens. By the time I realize the mistake, it's always too late. I manage to get off the train while still in Manhattan, find a 6 train station, take it up to 77th St, now on the wrong side of the park. I chug ass up to 81st, through the park, and get to theatre (literally) as the rest of the class walks up to the entrance gate. It took me over an hour to get there. Ugh.

After the theatre, I decided to take my damn reading time back. I still had my lunch in its paper bag. I found a tree... I ate my lunch (sandwich = grilled chicken, portobella mushrooms, lettuce, tomato, pesto basil spread... drink = vanilla coke). I read issue 1 of Paradigm and the first issue in book 1 of Transmetropolitan. I sat, and I read and...and... yes... I actually stopped thinking about my play for a few minutes!!! Wonder of wonders!!! Mission accomplished!!!!

I decided it was time to move on, and I began to walk back toward 5th Avenue, and I thought... "Hmm (yes I thought "Hmm"). I do happen to be oh so close to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Perhaps a quick stop?"

It was at this point that I decided that New York isn't that shabby of a place to live, you know? Amazing insight.

I went straight to the Modern Art exhibit because I was alone and I could do what I wanted to. I looked, I studied, and then I left when I was done... (which, sadly, doesn't take very long in art museums. I become overwhelmed... I can't handle taking it in anymore. It's an absolute assault on my mind, and I just... I don't know how to handle it. The way I have to do art museums is one hour of art, one hour of being quiet and processing what I've seen, then maybe I can go back to the art. Today, I left. I can always go back. It's just a couple miles up the road.)

All in all... it has just been an excellent day.