No, this isn't a picture of my apartment (though it's pretty damned close to it), it's just another part of the Boyce Institute:
Despite my apartment's current state of messitude, it is good to be home after a long days' out. I'm showered, there's a nice cool breeze coming through the windows and I'm in full Columbia gear; sweatpants and long sleeved Columbia University thermal. I'm leaning back in the office chair I have here and am just typing, typing away.
I never bought any NYU apparel when I was there, but it's not like I wasn't proud to be there. Around the time I got in the NYU shirt (NYU on simple gray) was a pretty popular fashion item, made so by that movie where Jimmy Smits and what'sherface from Sea of Love end up (Ellen Barkin, oh yeah!) changing bodies and she's (or is that he's?) jogging with that very NYU shirt on. Lest anybody think I'd jump onto a trend, I refrained. That's the same reason why I cut my hair and shaved my goatee in 1992. I was sick of people saying, "Dude, what are you? Grunge?"
No, I was just lazy, young, and who doesn't want to grow their hair long, and didn't feel confident enough at the time that my facial hair could fill out a full beard. And I had been wearing flannel shirts since I was a kid. Somehow looking like a scumbag became popular.
So I was walking home today and saw all this hoopla by one of the NYU dorms. Police, Fire, and multiple ambulances. There was this fresh looking middle aged black dude standing by the open rear door of a van and I asked him, "Do you know what's going on?"
"Yes, I do know what's going on," he replied.
Oh, but I do love a good wiseass.
"Well what's going on?" I asked.
"Somebody's threatening to jump."
"Goddamn," I said, "and school hasn't even started yet!"
"And all this for just one life."
"I went to NYU. I didn't like it so I dropped out, just not from a window."
As he laughed I went on my way.
Always leave 'em laughing.