Humans being humans: New York City aggro edition

Vol. 11 of the monthly boondoggle for supporters

“A Piece of Manhattan” (1979), Sol LeWitt

A trip to New York City for a wedding. We took the red-eye and barely slept. AirTrain into Manhattan, A train to the hotel, a quick walk to a diner to inhale coffee, then I grabbed a subway uptown to meet my agent for breakfast.

The weather was cold, pissing rain. I emerged from the station, on a corner in Midtown, and attempted to gather my bearings. Two young women stopped next to me, early twenties—wide-legged jeans, adidas Sambas, oversized sweatshirts—while they waited for the walk signal.

“I’m so over telling people I love them,” the first one said. “I’m just done saying that.”

“Wait, what’s up,” the other said.

“Nothing. That’s the point. It’s just—I don’t see why we do it anymore. Like, at all.”

“Yeah, totally.”