Metropolitan Diary
Words by
Geoff Haggerty, Pictures by
Stefan Lawrence
Dear Diary,
Walking down Eighth Avenue in the Chelsea district, I happened upon a quaint little bakery. Knowing myself to be an aficionado of all things sweet, I popped inside for a muffin or cupcake or some similar nonsense. Waiting in line was something of a chore, with all the sumptuous scents creeping up and subsequently tantalizing my nostrils! Also in line, I happened to notice, was a small child holding her mother's hand, also waiting in line.
Suddenly a cell phone rang out. I perfunctorily looked down to check mine, even though I didn't recognize the ring. It was then I saw the child (who could be no more than three) rummage maturely through her purse and pull out a cell phone! It was hers! I had to take the opportunity to step out of line and punch her directly in the face. Can you believe New York?
Lois Ferranti
Dear Diary,
Recently, my husband and I went to the movies, something we don't get to do too often with two young children. On my way there, I snagged my arm on an absurdly long rusty nail, jutting out of my door frame. I started bleeding copiously. I pressed my sweater down on the wound to keep it from flowing, but it hardly did anything. I was dead and I knew it. I started yelling at my husband, contending that his upkeep of our house was lackluster, and he spat back that I was home so often, why didn't I do anything about it?
I started crying, the emotional wound cutting even deeper knowing that I was moments away from death and the only man I had ever loved didn't love me back.
Ulele Whitestone
Dear Diary,
While walking somewhere or taking public transportation, something happened to me. It is my belief that this was something that could happen only in New York, or some other major urban center.
John Jones
Dear Diary,
The scene: Lexington avenue local. I had just caught the train (and a cold!) and was making my way toward the middle of the car, because it drives me crazy when commuters clog the doors. Because of the sudden movement of lightly jogging toward the train, I was jostled and felt a mighty sneeze coming on. With my hands filled with your fine newspaper and a bouqet of roses for my sweetheart, I unfortunately sneezed directly onto a child of thirteen or so. The child seemed startled, but I just couldn't bring myself to apologize! I knew I was better than him!
The child started swearing at me in a most unseemly fashion and said he was going to kill me. I believed him. I just have this feeling he is going to track my movements and find out where I live and kill my live-in boyfriend, or someone else dear to me. I live in fear.
Kristin Lampter
Dear Diary,
While walking in the SoHo district, I stopped at a cross-street, waiting for the light to change. The hip young twenty-something who had been walking abreast of me also stopped, reading whatever it was the young people are reading. The traffic light gave us the "walk" signal, but there was a car still coming, trying to beat the light. My twenty-something friend did not see this and was immediately hit by the car and died. I don't mean to sound crass, but I bet she deserved it.
Barry Calfee
Dear Diary,
I accidentally touched someone who was reading the New York Post. I'm sorry.
Reggie Layton
Dear Diary,
There I was, taking the M20 bus uptown along 8th avenue when I saw another woman wearing those awful shoes, with the toes pointed to the extreme and where you can see their toe cleavage at the tips. Atrocious.
Apparently, a fellow bus rider shared my view, lambasting this woman for choosing fashion over form, concluding by saying "What, are your toes pointed too?" The woman flashed a knowing smile and took off her shoes, revealing awkwardly shaped feet, with the middle toe longest and coming to a sharp point. Her verbal assailant immediately backtracked, apologizing, but the woman said it was all right. She explained that she was from a race investigating our planet and taking every opportunity to satirize our popular culture by injecting themselves in it and adopting some of our more ridiculous tendencies. She went on to say that he, in speaking out, was now entitled to view their world, a world of sincerity and promise where such pettiness had been ironed out and any need for satire had long since vanished. He couldn't believe his luck. She opened a portal for him and he walked through. I couldn't see much, but what I did see was a beautiful land beyond my imagination, with rainbows and clouds everywhere, along with a definite feeling of peace and understanding permeating the whole sunscape.
I wish I had said something. My life is so shitty.
Andrea Graves
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