fallen object.

In effect the man took up five seats -- he sat in the middle of a row of three, and placed his suitcase in front of a perpendicular set of two -- but I forgave him this because he had clearly come from JFK and was not from here. I watched him closely as he examined his subway map and cross-referenced it with what was displaying on his laptop screen, wondering when the mass of people in the subway would become critical enough that he would be asked to move, or realize that he needed to free up several of the seats he was monopolizing. It happened around Jay Street, at the same time I moved to the other set of doors, which happened to be closer to him.

As the train was pulling into the station, the man shifted even more, to free up another seat, and as he did this, something fell to the floor at my feet. My immediate response in a situation like this is to pick up the fallen item and give it back to the person who dropped it. Of course. But this time, just as my body was preparing to bend down to pick up the item, my instincts reversed course and I continued to stand straight up. I pretended to ignore the item -- a DVD -- instead of retrieve it.

Why? Because it had the words "BLACK BOOTY" on it and also featured a related photograph. It seemed like perhaps handing the DVD to the man, a very white and timid-looking visitor to my fine city who did not seem to know he had lost his item, would cause him too much embarrassment. So I left the DVD at my feet until it was time to get off the train, and I still don't know if the man was willfully ignoring his fallen object, or if he never knew he lost his only copy of Black Booty.

In retrospect I regret not doing anything, because, while it potentially meant red faces for both of us, it would have also been hilarious. OR I could have picked it up off the floor and darted from the train with a cackle, which also would have been a special ending to the story.

What would you have done, I wonder.

appropriate apologies

So I was watching the local news last night for the first time in years, and after a commercial break the lovely Liz Cho shows up on screen and says this:

"We have to take a moment to apologize to our viewers. Because of all of the developments in the economy tonight, we regret that we were unable to show you the story that we had intended to air this evening -- on the worst movie snacks."

Blah blah McCain blah blah WaMu blah.

I'm glad she apologized! At first I thought maybe it was about the UNHEALTHIEST movie snacks, but then I changed my mind. Maybe it was about the messiest movie snacks, or the most impractical. Or the stinkiest. I asked my friend Suzi what she thought the worst movie snack would be, and she thought maybe cottage cheese.

Fondue? Kimchee?Limburger cheese?

# 104 - Kevin

We met in calculus; I took you to Boogie Nights before I knew you were religious. Years later -- on Thanksgiving -- I read about your heart transplant in the newspaper.

I am waiting for the day that I am free of YEE

I have a co-worker.

A few weeks ago he stopped me in the mailroom. He said:

"Beth, say YEE"

"What?"

"Say YEE"

"Yee?"

"YEE."

And then we paused for a few moments and looked at each other.

"Ok are you going to tell me what that was about?"

"Oh well in California that's what people say when they're excited."

"Oh are you excited?"

"No I am just bored."

"Oh ok. So when were you in California?"

"Oh I've never been to California. I just read about it on Wikipedia."

OK. FINE. Weird interaction over. FINE.

But now every morning when I come in he says to me:

"YEE!"

And whenever I see him in the mailroom he says to me:

"YEE!"

Like it's some sort of secret code that we share.

And while I have made it my highest intention to do so, it is impossible to avoid him.

The thing that bothers me about this situation I am in is that he treats YEE as an inside joke we cooked up with together, and it is NOT. It came from his brain exclusively and he forced it upon me, based, I think, upon the knowledge that I, Beth, had once set foot in the state of California. YEE.

I am glad to say that a campaign of non-response over the past few weeks has yielded some results. But while the number of YEE instances per day is diminishing, YEE has not yet been eliminated.

I am working, delicately, on various tactics to fully smother YEE; none of these involve increasing my tolerance for the use of the word. I am just not open to that possibility. I hope to conquer YEE by the fall. I think it's the best I can hope for.

overheard and unrelated photo

Overheard at Urban Outfitters:

"Where are our parents when we need their wallets?"

# 103 - Jose Luis

I watched you juggle in Bryant Park; then we met in Washington Square. You recited the first sentences of One Hundred Years of Solitude to me in Spanish. Magic.

i lived here for seven years

This is a house that holds its sorrows well. In this house I learned what sadness was, how to be quiet around it, to walk around it with delicate steps. Somewhere within, there is an apartment -- a mother-in-law apartment, they call it, and it actually held one for a spell. It held a mother-in-law, in fact, while it held no husband -- that was a sad time for the house. After the mother-in-law moved away, after much protest, and then the husband left for good, in moved a boarder, a young man that I am told was kind and handsome. If I ever met him I have no memory. But he left one day, too, by diving off the Tappan Zee Bridge, saturated with heartbreak. They plucked his body from the river and came to the house to tell us. There was no boarder after that; we moved a few years later after the sadness consumed the house completely.

Well, hello. Some things have happened, you might have guessed them. Eric is gone, Dexter is gone. You must have guessed that. If we want to talk fault, it was all mine. So that happened. Then there was another blip on my radar screen. Blip, gone. And now here I am. With this blank space I've been filling with vignettes.

I got massively plagiarized a few months ago -- a boy that had written to me to say, "hey I love your writing" then several weeks later took that writing and posted it on his own site. But first changed any implications of authorial gender from female to male; assigned all of the sentiments I had ever expressed about my father's death to his grandmother's death; and exchanged the word Queens with the word DETROIT. It was a cut and paste, find and replace masterpiece.

Violating, slightly hilarious, but overall just off-putting. Why do people post their lives on the internet again? Why did I ever do this?

So, with all of the flux and the personal details that weren't fair to post, topped off with an exceedingly sincere plagiarizer -- it cooled me to writing here. Am I back? Not sure, really, but figured I would give it one tiny shot, exercise my fingers again. At least to say hello. Tap, tap, tap.

# 102 - John

You called the day my heart was breaking; after so many years how did you time it so well? You are my cousin, but I stumble explaining the relation.

# 101 - Adam

I went on my first date with you, and saw a movie I didn't want to: the Mighty Ducks. A milestone I was desperate to reach, an anti-climactic disappointment.

# 100 - Rudy

I saw you at the wedding, quietly pleading that she let you walk her down the aisle. She held steady, told you 'no', and walked down with her mother.

# 99 - Paul

You are a vegetarian who only eats junk food. You told me a few years ago you didn't believe in brushing your teeth -- I hope you've revised your vision.

#98 - Tony

Seeing you in your uniform stilled me. All at once I thought: he could have died, and I wouldn't have known. And then you were on TV, a documentary.

#97 - Alec

We'd stand on your penthouse rooftop, hold hands, hug. I was always too nervous to kiss you, so I never did. Then a fast girl found you that summer.

# 96 - Siobhan

My stepmother's friend, you took me aside before the wedding and asked me what I thought about my dad getting remarried. You were the only one who said anything.

# 95 - Jolene

Promoted from reception; I was the temp that took your place. You would have teary, raging phone calls with your fiance from the false privacy of the conference room.

I was jolted by a shock last night -- I'd been in that sweet state before sleep, the state that I am sometimes trapped in for hours, craving unconsciousness (did you ever know I had trouble sleeping?) --- I was jolted -- by the sudden knowledge that I had forgotten your anniversary. The shock ran through my whole body. The day came, the day passed. I took no time to pause. I forgot.

(How long does it take before you forget?

Four years.)

May 29 was ten days ago, and in those ten days I never thought about you dying.

But you know, four years ago, you died; you died with me holding your hand, you died with your mouth open, you died with your feet out from under the covers.

So I marked it last night, ten days late, shocked awake.

(And I have to say, Dad, the distance between us in these four years has again grown tremendous.)

# 94 - Betty

When I ran into you, you said I was brave to live in Brooklyn. I thought you meant that it was expensive; but no -- you thought it was SCARY.

# 93 - Lily

Remember how, after my interview, I wrote you a thank you email that you forwarded to your boss with some bitchy comments? You sent it to me by mistake.

# 92 - Helen

Fear kept you from the doctor; their misdiagnosis hastened the end. Friends doubted you were sick while you wasted away. You left muddled, cruel messages behind for your daughter.

more of the story here