July 16th

7/16/24

It’s somehow day 22 in New York.

Yesterday I was on the subway with two Trader Joe's bags in an outfit that I bought from Everlane last week. I shop at Everlane now. Can one imagine.

The Trader Joe's bags were near my feet. There was this bottle of 7up or something floating between four people. The lady in front of me kicked it, and I kept staring at it, secretly hoping it would come to my feet so I could kick it. Would we break out into an impromptu soccer game together? I tried telepathically communicating to everyone that I wanted this, but no one understood so eventually after the bottle rolled over to me, I lifted up my feet and let it go underneath the seat. At my station, a guy kicked the bottle out of the train. I would’ve kicked it, but I walked past it.

On the way home, I saw a dude standing in front of a taxi, refusing to budge. The guy and the taxi driver stood at the corner of a crowded intersection. The taxi driver insisted the guy move out of the way. The guy insisted the taxi driver drive past him. None of them moved. They just kept yelling at each other.

I’ve been reaching for dark chocolate more and that’s never a good sign is it.

On a Friday evening, where I imagined everyone in the city and their mother was out partying, I tried having a moment. I walked to Prospect Park and listened to Arooj Aftab’s Man Kunto Maula on repeat. I saw some people reading, a lot of couples who were too in love with each other for my liking, some groups on the field. When I finally got really into the chorus of the song, I saw a guy jacking off on the lawn and had to stop Arooj to turn back.

I got locked out of my apartment the other day. I was supposed to go to dinner at 6. So I timed my laundry. My laundry is in our building’s basement - the walls are green and there’s a Brazilian flag and nail clippers and old wood and TVs and broken glass, and in the corner, a washer and dryer. At 5:20pm, I got ready, picked up my laundry bag and left my apartment to go to the basement, just to realize I don’t have my phone or my keys and the door slam-locked behind me.

I just stood there for a minute or two. I considered getting my laundry but, would I go to dinner with my laundry? Would I go to dinner? I’ll go to dinner. I went outside and saw a man coming my way. I asked if I could call my mom using his phone. He was very sweet. I called her and asked her to call me an uber to Felice Montague, which I pronounced Felice Montaag. I don’t know why. “Is it near the ocean?” I asked her. “How would I know?” she replied, which was a fair response. “Check the map.” It was.

Then I met Paulette, this woman from my building who was also waiting for an uber. I told her my situation and she insisted on asking me who lives with me. I named all of my roommates. “You guys are new!” We were. But I was also locked out of my apartment without my phone and keys and trying to go to dinner. I called my mom from her phone again. Paulette told me to ring her apartment when I come back and she’ll let me in through the fire escape.

Rafiq, my uber driver, showed up and then it hit me that I might have gotten the restaurant wrong. Downtown Brooklyn, or wherever this restaurant was, was beautiful. I asked the hostess if there was a reservation in the name of my family friend. She said no. I asked her if this was Felice Montaag? She said “yeah this is Felice Montague.” Then she realized my family friend was seated. I had the best salmon of my life.

My family friend wrote her number on receipt paper for me in case I needed to call her. My other uber driver was from Jalandhar and told me I looked Mexican. In my somewhat broken-but-enough-to-get-by Punjabi, we talked about how it’s easy to fly to Jalandhar now because Amritsar built an international airport. He told me not to take the subway at night, and dropped me off.

I stood outside my building and rang our apartment’s buzzer around five times. Then I wondered if this is when I should start crying, but I didn’t feel like crying. I just felt like buzzing. In four or five minutes, or maybe it was two, the door opened. And I saw my roommate which was like seeing God.

I ran in the rain and felt the most alive I’ve felt running in a while. Run clubs are good, but running alone in a city - not a park - but a city, particularly a grimy part of downtown Brooklyn, made me very happy.

I love, love dining alone here.

I was at the subway station and felt like I was naked. I was wearing clothes, but I felt naked. I sat on the middle seat in the strange wooden chairs. I got on the train and didn’t want to sit, but I sat anyway cause seats cleared up. I left the train a couple stops away from my stop and went to ISKCON New York City cause it felt right to see God. ISKCON was in the middle of a Kirtan session where a man spoke on a mic about how all the Gopis would bathe in the winter in their river just to get Krishna’s attention. I didn’t understand what was going on. I left and got one bar of dark chocolate from Whole Foods and walked home without music.

The best part of my morning today was opening my windows. I am so, so fatigued. The things saving me are my room, my roommates, a cast iron skillet, and Brooklyn. I’ve taken a liking to Dandelion root tea. I live in perpetual fear that I will forget how to code. I live in perpetual fear in general. What I love the most about this city is how raw everything and everyone is. I could cry thinking about it. I'm too tired to think about it.