After we finally selected what we wanted at Fish's Eddy, my friend and I were lucky enough to get a woman with a completely hilarious and awesome personality at the cash register. She had a great hairstyle (bleached blonde and somewhat sticking up) and a blunt personality hard to find outside of New York. I loved her. She told us how she was 42, was on her third marriage to a 28 year old, had a crazy son who was a (she leaned forward to whisper in my ear "f-up"). We talked about abusive partners and she recommended that if I ever encountered violence in a relationship again, I should wait until the person was asleep -- "because everyone has to go to sleep" -- and pull out a bat. Eeeek, not my style!
But scary that so many people have been victims of violence. I talked a little about my old relationship, about my brother. It's funny how sometimes in New York, complete strangers open up to each other. She was ragging on men and poor Aaron stood there while she wrapped our purchases and dished with me. That's how it is.
I cherish these minor bonding moments. I love that in New York, because there is no personal space (small apartments, public transportation instead of private cars, cleaning your undies at the laundromat for everyone to see), the public sometimes becomes so personal. I love it. The suburbs, where I grew up, taught people to hold things in so much.
When I was younger, I was part of the zine culture. I did a zine called Freak, and was nearly suspended for the publication of it. I learned the importance then of the printed word, of speaking the truth. Sometimes it's hard to admit the truth - to say, "I had an abortion" or "I was raped" or "I had an abusive partner" but those are things you need to say sometimes so others realize they are not alone.