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Copping an attitude...
Jan. 16th, 2002 01:04 amI like to watch... watch for patterns, that is. Faint echoes, coincidences, repeating patterns. Then to try to toy with the data until I can extract something from it.
Like watching pedestrians here, especially on mostly-deserted streets after midnight. Body language... different styles, but lots of variations of the "I-know-where-I'm-going-and-I'm-too-busy-to-stop" stance. An attitude. Leaning forward, brisk stride, slightly pained expression as if one were ten minutes late to a business meeting (or had a headache). Faint peripheral scans and sideways glances. Unobtrusive threat assessment, particularly of whomever's following.
Following advice, I took a cab to Greenwich Village, got pizza at the original Ray's, then meandered through the Village, Little Italy (Cafe Dante, "since 1915" with an Italian-speaking guy quietly pointing to an old photo of Venice and talking about his relatives there), SoHo and Chinatown. Maybe a couple of miles...this is a great walking city. No wonder it used to be New Amsterdam :-)
Speaking of which, I was only approached on the street by one guy offering various substances and later by one faux-fur prostitute (with *way* too much eyeliner, she looked like someone had drawn circles around her eyes with a black Sharpie marker). And the odd half-dozen panhandlers (shrug).
And the fire station on Lafayette with seven photos in their window.
And the Chinese guy outside a bitty club, breakdancing on his back alone on a deserted sidewalk.
And Ray's serving their soft drinks in in SF Boudin Bakery "Since 1849" paper cups. No kidding. NY pizza, SF soda (??)
And the tight black leather pants on the 20-something Italian-speaking waitress (mmmm...).
Like watching pedestrians here, especially on mostly-deserted streets after midnight. Body language... different styles, but lots of variations of the "I-know-where-I'm-going-and-I'm-too-busy-to-stop" stance. An attitude. Leaning forward, brisk stride, slightly pained expression as if one were ten minutes late to a business meeting (or had a headache). Faint peripheral scans and sideways glances. Unobtrusive threat assessment, particularly of whomever's following.
Following advice, I took a cab to Greenwich Village, got pizza at the original Ray's, then meandered through the Village, Little Italy (Cafe Dante, "since 1915" with an Italian-speaking guy quietly pointing to an old photo of Venice and talking about his relatives there), SoHo and Chinatown. Maybe a couple of miles...this is a great walking city. No wonder it used to be New Amsterdam :-)
Speaking of which, I was only approached on the street by one guy offering various substances and later by one faux-fur prostitute (with *way* too much eyeliner, she looked like someone had drawn circles around her eyes with a black Sharpie marker). And the odd half-dozen panhandlers (shrug).
And the fire station on Lafayette with seven photos in their window.
And the Chinese guy outside a bitty club, breakdancing on his back alone on a deserted sidewalk.
And Ray's serving their soft drinks in in SF Boudin Bakery "Since 1849" paper cups. No kidding. NY pizza, SF soda (??)
And the tight black leather pants on the 20-something Italian-speaking waitress (mmmm...).
