032: Mood Sensing iPod, Constatine?, and Red Green Hot Chili Pepper

Waking up in the early afternoon, like 2:00, can put a damper on one’s day. Not that I had anything plan for today, but I lost the whole entire morning of scratching my head and twiddling my thumbs as to figure out what I should do with myself. But alas, I had this one errand, which I had pushed back to do on Monday, that I decided to do today, and the errand being a fun trip to the post office. With my white earphones in place and iPod in shuffle mode, I leave my apartment.

Because I tend to be very goal oriented, I made it a priority to go to the post office immediately, not thinking about the consequence of what I should do afterwards. Smart individuals would have stretched out the task, doing other mindless things in between, while still having a set goal in mind, and ending the day fulfilled for having finished a task last. Instead, I had to finish the task first, ending up feeling unsure of what I should do next and unfulfilled to boot, leading me to wander around the streets aimlessly, in search of something I don’t know what.

Somehow I find myself inside a subway car. Since it’s heading into Manhattan, might as well I should go shopping for clothes. And Herald Square is as a good destination for shopping as any. I change trains at 74th Street – Roosevelt Avenue. As I get on the F train, I scan the car for a place to sit. There are empty seats, but the last thing you want to do is to sit in between two people, so I opt to stand.

Finding a spot next to the sliding doors, I scan the car once again. Lo and behold I see before me an object of my desire (OMD). I feel breathless, numb, even. At that moment I’m in love (although I don’t believe in love—but, that’s another topic). As Pink Floyd’s Comfortably Numb plays in my iPod, I take a glance, and then another. OMD seems to be alone. I feel hot; I feel flushed; I feel high. I peak another glance this time through the reflection on the train’s window.

…I caught a fleeting glimpse,
Out of the corner of my eye…

No, no, damn it! OMD is talking to him. OMD is with someone else!

…I turned to look but it was gone.
I cannot put my finger on it now.
The child is grown, the dream is gone.
I have become comfortably numb.

Along with my realization that OMD is taken, Dido’s Don’t Think of Me starts.

so you're with her
not with me
I hope she's sweet
and so pretty…

As I try to make peace with my brief, one-sided love affair, Dido croons on.

when you see her sweet smile baby
don't think of me
and when she lays in your warm arms
don't think of me
and it's too late
and it's too bad
don't think of me
and it's too late
and it's too bad
don't think of me...

And near the song’s end, the train stops at Lexington Avenue, and OMD and the boyfriend get off—gone forever.

Good bye, OMD, good bye. The next song begins—it’s a Japanese song, a song entitled 約束の季節 (Yakusoku no Kisetsu) by the Gospellers—“Sayonara…”

From our first meeting, which made me feel high and numb, like being drugged, to our brief love affair with my realization that OMD is with someone else, ending with a farewell, my iPod was strumming my pain with its fingers, singing my life with its words, killing me softly with its song. How uncanny that my iPod was reading my thoughts, my moods… it was reading ME.

***

Shopping around Herald Square has been uneventful. At H&M, the line for the changing rooms is way too long, and I can’t be bothered with it. Besides there’s nothing I want to try on. Macy’s too expensive. I hate going to the Gap.

I’m again on the streets, walking aimlessly. I head west to the river, towards Hell’s Kitchen. I don’t even get close to the river. Instead I make a right on 8th Ave., heading north. I’ve forgotten the name of a bar I went to last week, and I figure I’ll walk by it to get its name. Why not? I’ve nothing else to do.

I make a left of 46th Street and again head west. I pass by the bar, note its name, and continue on walking as far as to 10th Ave. I head up one block north to 47th and walk towards Times Square.

It’s been a fairly dull read, right? If you made it this far, I’m proud of you. If I were you, I’d have moved on to someone else’s blog or to porn.

Anyways, lo and behold, who is it that I see coming towards me? I swear to you, it’s Constatine from American Idol. He has on his trademark rock-n-roller look with a pair of shades. At first I’m like, “Oh. My. God. It’s him!” But as soon as I finish with that thought, a new one steam-rolls in. It’s a big “W” for “Whatever.” It’s not like seeing Woody Allen and Soon-Yi, which by the way I had, on a street of Upper East Side. Wait, wait. It is just like seeing Woody Allen and Soon-Yi. Because at that time, my stream of thoughts was, (1) OMG, it’s them, (2) whatever, then (3) ew. The same exact “Ew” I had as Constatine and I passed each other by. Ew, ew, ew.

***

Finally a word of advice: Koreans tend to eat a lot of green chili peppers—flesh, steamed, etc. If you’re offered some, be careful. I had a few. The first one was hot, but manageable. But with each additional pepper, the heat became unbearable. Now, I feel like dying. My inside wants to come out. There's this constant tremor along the GI tract. Ow. Ow. Ow. I feel like dying. Nevermind the "be careful" advice. Just don’t eat it. Save yourself. Don’t.