Well, not quite yet. But I did buy Kitty a leash and collar today at Petland Discounts. In a fit of pre-commute boredom -- and at Nina's repeat urging -- I did some Googling of Kitty's... condition. You know, the stomach thing. The Internet said that she was probably bored and depressed, and that getting her outside might help with that. Now, don't get me wrong, I done knew Kitty's emotions were in a tangle, but I guess I didn't think there was much to be done about it. The Internet said, though, that it might help to let her go outside, attached to a leash, maybe. So on Saturday I hoofed it over to Petland and got a leash and collar, a cute little red nylon dealie with a tiny bell on it. After fretting about the exertions that would be necessary to get her into it, I tried a little test run, slipping the thing over her head. To my surprise, it worked -- I got the leash on on my first try, tightened it, the works, and Kitty wasn't bothered at all. Until she got up and started walking around, that is, and couldn't figure out where the tinkle-tinkle of the bell was coming from. It drove her nuts! She was chasing her tail and pawing at invisible things in the air and seemed generally miserable. So I cornered her in the bedroom and slipped the collar off. And now she won't go near it.
To the extent possible, I kicked off my summer on Friday by heading down to South Street Seaport to go see Wire with my friend Peter from work. It was Friday, we were still there at 9 o'clock, so I just stood up and said, hey, who wants to go see Wire? It was a beautiful night, and even though we go there basically at the end, we were able to get pretty close. Unfortunately, Wire wasn't really that good. I'm not super familiar with their ouvre, but I'd liked the stuff of theirs they'd put on their MySpace, and, live, they just seemed kind of sloppy and over the hill. The lead singer had this laptop he was using for something on stage, and we knew that the concert was over -- after the second encore -- because he kind of snuck back up to collect it.
I've been working real late lately, babies, and it's been making me kind of miserable. I guess experiencing a game industry "crunch" is something I wanted to try -- I mean, this whole job is kind of like Internet startup fantasy camp for me -- but when it goes on for a month or more, it's just... unpleasant. Like, there's this persistent, dull discomfort, and you're tired all the time. But, yeah, so I was getting home around 12:30 the other night, and as I was walking across the Burger King parking lot, I saw these three guys kind of circling each other. Two of them had their fists raised, and the other one was kind of refereeing and giving color commentary. And then they started throwing punches. I wasn't sure quite what to do -- the Burger King was full of patrons, there was even a fourth guy who was leaning in the exit, smoking a cigarette and observing the whole scene. But one of the fighters seemed like he was overmatched, and started really getting pummeled up against the side of a car, while the hovering commentator yelled, "Choke him! Choke the fuck out of him!" It occurred to me that this wasn't a friendly round of midnight street boxing, and I debated calling 911. Was it the kind of affair the cops should get involved in? If they took one or both of the kids off to jail, would that ultimately be for the best? The matter was sort of resolved for me by the sound of sirens on 4th Ave. as I headed up 41st.
When I got home, I popped in Marathon Man -- part of my new watch-it-in-four-weeks-no-matter-what Netflix policy -- and allowed myself to get freaked out by the Laurence Olivier character. The Netflix blurb says that the movie follows Dustin Hoffman's character as he "turns from pacifist to street-smart cynic" -- which one am I? That's not what the movie is about, anyway.
I told Eve about the experience the next evening over drinks and mutton at Sheep Station. Was I too old, I wondered, to let some teenagers settle their grievances in peace? Turns out she'd witnessed a knife fight over a bicycle on the subway ride down to meet me, during that long bit before any station after the D gets into Brooklyn over the bridge. So my story was sort of tame by comparison.
The previous Friday I'd gone over to Aanie's house after work to play Wii with Nina and her and Brooke. Aanie and Brooke have a copy of Wii Fit, and they created Miis for me and Nina, so we spent a while getting in shape. My "Wii Fit Age," as determined by my ability to balance on the stupid plastic pad, is 43! We tried out some skiing games and the hula hoop game and I kind of sucked at all of them, so then I was like, let me take a crack at the push-up activity, I'll rock at that. It turns out the push-up mode is fucking brutal! You have to do them extra slow, with your hands unnaturally close together, and in between repetitions you have to sort of twist yourself around and balance on a single hand. I made it through all six reps, but it was really hard!
And the next evening I was so sore that I couldn't sleep at all! Everything hurt, and I just tossed and turned all night. The next day I couldn't really muster the energy or enthusiasm to do anything, so Nina and I made a pilgrimage over to Brooklyn Bridge Park to take a look at the Telectroscope. It's a faux-implementation of a hoax that some guy was pushing around the turn of the century for making a mirrored tunnel from New York to London to foster camaraderie and understanding between Americans and Brit-Faces. This version works via some kind of digital video hookup, but the whole thing is molded to look like an industrial-age brass telescope exploding up out of the pier. It was around midnight in London by the time we got to the head of the line. A cheeky, sotted limey kept threatening to moon us, eliciting titters from all the girls.
After that we ate dinner.
I'm just re-reading this entry and it's not that exciting.
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