Joshua Allen Harris


While walking in Chelsea this afternoon I caught a shiny silver shimmer out of the corner of my eye.  Joshua Allen Harris was tying the last sheet of metallic paper to the subway grates for an inspired sidewalk art project.   When a subway went through the tunnel underground the paper made a spectacular show. "We're all attracted to shiny" When I returned to the office I did some research and found he's been up to this for quite some time creating animals and creatures out of recycled bags.  I couldn't find a website, but I found this youtube page – http://www.youtube.com/user/harrisdanger.  It totally made my day. 



time


Does anyone wear a watch anymore?

The last time I wore one was for an interview.  Since I started carrying a cell phone sometime in the year 2000 it seemed redundant.  I lost interest in having something on my wrist that would annoy me while I was typing, the same reason why I rarely wear bracelets.  Then again, I’m not much of a jewelry-wearing type of girl.

In high school I was obsessed with pocket watches.  I would find one I fell in love with and then when it stopped ticking, I’d discard it wherever I was when I noticed it was no longer keeping time. I suppose I should feel guilty for littering, but I wouldn’t trade the memory of a night on a bridge, kissing a cute boy, reaching into my pocket to make sure we weren’t out past curfew and as was habit -  tossing the dead watch into the moonlit lake.  He’d told me about his Father’s death and how he’d accidentally set his house on fire, we’d been talking, crying, laughing and kissing for hours.  Considering we were spending the summer on a college campus immersed in writing workshops all day, the scene was unapologetically poetic.  The watch was disposable, the memories of that night and that summer lie beyond the bottom of that lake.

I never invested more than $30 on one of these pocket watches and they broke a lot.  I liked the temporary disposable nature of these watches.  I never collected them or owned more than one at a time.  I parted ways with one wandering Manhattan (when it was a treat for my fiends and I to spend a day in the city) in a trash bin on a sidewalk, another was thrown in the woods while walking my dog.

When I was in college I spent the most money I’d ever spent on myself on a watch.  It was a Fossil watch, one of the “big tics” where the seconds ticked off as large digital numbers and the hour and minute hands were analog.  I wore that watch for years, having it repaired when the crystal was scratched and the batteries replaced by mail which was a lengthy process I got to know quite well.  I replaced it a few years ago, scouring ebay for months, determined to get the exact same one.  When it broke I stopped wearing a watch.

There was a short time when I was in San Francisco, waitressing that I needed to wear a watch if only to count down the hours of my misery.  I chose a children’s watch in the theme of the restaurant with plastic straps for easy cleaning.  Even though I hated that period of time I have yet to throw it away.

For all my disinterest in wearing jewelry, I have quite a few necklaces, bracelets and earrings that either I crave or stow in a box as pretty as it’s contents.  Every once in awhile an email from Thrillist or Daily Candy or a shop on Etsy makes me want to buy something and actually wear it.  Today I fell in love with these…and wondered why…



Photos from Podcamp Montreal


misread irony


misreading irony

I thought this sign said "electroengineering".  wasn’t as funny once i figured it out.



toss a salad


toss a salad

there is irony in this deli



Intimacy


Some days in New York it feels as though the Mayor declares the city’s mood first thing in the morning and dispatches it to all boroughs with a strict order to comply.  You can feel it between the Hudson and the East River and North to South.  As you walk down the street you sense whether it’s a good day to wear the shoes you chose to chance, if you can let you guard down and be at ease – it dictates the speed of your gait.

 

After a pleasant few weeks of unexpected mild summer temperatures the concrete baked in the sun and it burned my eyes and skin.   I chose not to buy groceries that would wilt before I could get them back inside.  Yet, it didn’t feel oppressive the way the same would feel in late July when the entire summer still feels as though it’s stretched out in front of you.  The collective feeling was…hot, but not a burden.

 

So, I walked into the subway headed home, pressed against strangers.  I noticed everyone was quiet.  It was as if you could sense a shared feeling of relief the day was ending for most and the weekend is near.  It was not one of those days where anger is tangible and you are forced into awkwardness by simultaneous fights and arguments on separate ends of the train car.  I locked eyes with a few people as we bumped into one another and gave that smile of “it’s okay” and mouth sheepishly, “I’m sorry.”

 

As the train was leaving the station I found the pole I needed to hold on to was further from me than I like it to be.  I had to stand at an angle and stretch my arm around the person next to me without leaning against them.  I could feel his heat on my arm as he was wearing less shirt than exposed skin.  I could smell his hair and sweat.  It was not unpleasant, it was not sexual…just intimate.

 

I have been thinking a lot about intimacy lately it makes me wonder if the mood I take with me is the mood I perceive around me.  You can’t help but notice people – and feel their day radiating out of them contained in a small space, breathing the same air.