Helen of Troy

A thousand ships searched for the beautiful Helen of Troy. It would have been a thousand and one, but a single ship remained in the quiet Greek harbor. The captain of the tethered ship had dismissed his crew after learning that Helen had adopted a pet in Troy.

A leashed dog lunged at me this week. It was an unusual event on 66th St. Most dogs I see are able to fit in their owner's iPod cases. This dog was different. He was oversized, gray, and unlovely. I'm not sure what make he was. The whole thing left me a little unnerved. If I had been walking with someone, then I would have acted differently. I would have acted like a courageous captain during a violent storm. I would have felt like a captain who wished that he would have delayed the journey a day or two. Of course, my actions would depend on who I was with. If I was walking with the person who picked up the latest Harry Potter book at Duane Reade last week and read the last paragraph out loud, then I would slow my pace and put him between me and the dog.

Breaking Eggs

I walked home from 51st St. Wednesday evening. The story should have started "I walked home from 53rd St.", but I walked two blocks in the wrong direction. I tend to wander off when lost in thought. When leaving the subway station I was thinking about how my recent barbers have been spending less and less time on the top of my head. I think I counted three snips the last time I was in the chair. While Antarctica can blame greenhouse gases for its missing ozone, I am still thinking about the cause of my missing mop top. I think my hairloss can be traced back my youth when my father used to pretend to break an egg over my head by lightly tapping my head with his knuckles and slowly opening his fist. The broken egg trick always made me laugh. It was a genuine laugh, too. Not the kind of empty, cheap laugh that Gilligan's Island or The Brady Bunch evoked. More like the full, rich laugh from an Addams Family episode. Although my hairloss will probably disqualify me from a future presidential run, I guess getting eggs broken on my head was worth it. It's one of those memories that I hold on to- one that makes me relax then smile. One that may postpone more hairloss.

Playing the Loose Change Market

Right now I am heavily invested in the loose change market. My sock drawer overfloweth with the tooth chipping metals. Loose change is liquid, so I think it's a wise investment. I have not sought advice from a broker. I handle all exchanges and acquisitions. Yesterday, for example, I bent over and picked up a nickel that was planted near the front door of my apartment. No one was looking. It's difficult to explain the complexities of the loose change market to others.

My coin collection has grown ever since I stopped doing my own my laundry, ceased purchasing loose chiclets on the street, and started getting a metro card. I'm well positioned if penny and nickel stocks were ever to return. When that time comes I will jump into the stock market, make my fortune, and buy more socks.

Rainbow Connection

My neighbor's bed is about nine feet from mine. The same can be said about our toilets. Four of my windows face her apartment building. I've never seen her. I don't know if she is a "her". Then how do I know? My former roommate claimed to have seen a woman in the apartment. That might not have been good enough for Henry Fonda, but that's more than enough evidence for me. She has a black cat. I have a bit more evidence to support this statement. First, she has two black cat stickers on one of her windows. Second, on most days the cat sits double-framed, peering into my kitchen window. To be fair, if my neighbor had pickled herring each day, like yours truly does, then I would stare longingly at her kitchen window, too.

I'm not interested in meeting my neighbor. I don't imagine walking by water fountains and making jokes about bidets or singing "Let's Spoon the Night Together" under a moonlit sky. But I am interested in having some kind of connection with her. Maybe one day after a thunderstorm, we both will open our bathroom windows and a rainbow will appear, one that starts in her toilet and ends in mine.

Phobia

I always know when a phobia is about to develop. A cold wave laps against my skeletal frame. I've had quite a few phobias, so I'm never surprised when a new one comes along. Some are fleeting, while others are more permanent. The fear of tse-tse flies was fleeting. The fear of looking up at tall buildings is one that still lingers. There is usually little basis for phobias. Sometimes I develop a phobia after reading a three word headline. Most phobias are retroactive. A few years ago I developed a fear of soy milk. Since I had been raised on soy milk formula, the anxiety attack was worse than usual.

It helps when someone is around to let me know that I'm acting like an idiot. Recently, I was eating at a restaurant with a friend. He asked me why I didn't want to try the gelato. With a pureed voice and a strained face, I told him that I had no good reason for not trying the dessert. And I didn't. No research soundbites popped into my head. My friend told me to eat the gelato and enjoy it. I had always liked performing gelatio, so I decided to eat two spoonfuls. It's good to have someone to call you on your phobias. Otherwise they tend to pile up.