So I walked over to the Manhattan Mall on my lunch break today, to pick up a copy of the new Beck CD. I was on my way back, on 34th Street between Fifth and Madison, when I heard a voice yelling off to my right in the street: "Hey, buddy! Do you live around here?"
I looked. There was a black SUV idling in the street not far away. The windows were all tinted black. A young white guy was leaning his face out the passenger window.
"Why?" I said, in that surly New York way we have.
The guy jerked his thumb at the back seat. "Do you want a free home theater system? Our boss just gave us one."
"No," I said, and the SUV peeled out and raced away like a ghost was chasing it.
Jesus, who knows what might have happened if I'd said yes.
I am sorry about this whole billboard thing. Actually, I have not been sending a lot of what I get on to you. I have just been in the habit of forwarding to "Big Family", a group in my address book, and sometimes I still do that without thinking.
I do love you, too, and have really not had any hidden agenda attached to what I send.
I'm reluctant to ask this, but I would appreciate it if you didn't forward religiously themed emails to me anymore. It's probably something I should have asked a long time ago, but it's not material I care to read, and it only makes me feel adversarial. To me, it's the same as if I were sending you anti-Mormon material without your permission. That would make you feel bad, I'm sure. I know you don't mean them to, but those emails make me feel badadversarial, even, and often I can't help but respond. Otherwise I feel like I've tacitly agreed with the sentiments they express.
I want you to know that I love you very much, and I certainly wouldn't mind an open discussion of religion. But I hope you'll respect my wishes and not send me religious material unasked. And I promise to do the same.
Who knew God had a web site? He has some rather pointed things to tell us at SaysGod.com.
One of my favorites is, "Okay, you've got multiplying down. Now let's try replenishing for a while."
Laura and I walked to work this morning. It was our own memorial service, to honor all the people who had to walk home from Manhattan to Brooklyn and Queens last year.
The Queensboro bridge pedestrian walkway wasn't very crowded. It took about an hour and twenty minutes for us to get to my office. It took Laura about another half hour after that to get to hers.
The piano is now tuned, thanks to the kindly Korean gentleman who just left, and I have managed to locate my box of sheet music. And now, the house shall fill with music!