I was in my favorite full service, beautiful, incredibly expensive pharmacy on the Upper West Side this afternoon. Somebody began talking about the dearth of full service pharmacies where everybody knew you; treated you with great respect; and took insurance. I heard somebody respond that the only other really great one had been on the East Side across from her old pharmapsychiatrist. Four people asked her, who turned out to be me, the doctor’s name; three had gone to him; one wanted to but he was too expensive. Nobody looked at us as if we were crazy. In New York, 2005, psychotropics can be a necessity.
I fall into the category of early adapter. Okay not for MP3 players, but I have DVR’d everything for years. Gave up TIVO as it was too distracting. I would make it guess the name of obscure Albanian films; it was my type of a computer game. So I was a real early adapter in the psychotropic market and that makes me just like two thirds of the people who live around me.
It shouldn’t be a surprise to anybody that I live in Manhattan, am generally liberal, am a cultural Jew, and am a reverent believer in the Constitution and the First Amendment.
However I have never judged a person by their politics though lately on that other blog I feel like I have been reacting too comments to vehemently; here too sometimes so I’m taking a political blogging break. Courting is my child and…You know I really like people who have strong beliefs. I don’t care if they match mine or not as long as they’re not off the wall. I have been categorized as an off the wall, liberal/Socialist/Communist French loving idiot and that doesn’t bother me at as it’s so far from the mark.
I live the American dream, know and appreciate it. It took me a year to find a coop. I rejected one in the Beresford; much larger than this one, it needed much renovation and faced trees on the street. It was across from Central Park, and I had lived on 63rd off Fifth for many years. I wanted to live near Riverside Park and the Hudson, in an apartment with city views.
Of course Jerry Seinfeld moved to the Beresford the next year. Read that after he passed his board interview, he jumped up and down, and screamed:
“I’m a Beresford boy. I’ve always wanted to be a Beresford boy….”
Many other celebrities live in that building. I can’t imagine what the apartment I rejected is worth. The asking price was $14,000 less than mine. I bid on the spot for this one and knocked $9,000 off the asking price. A month after that apartments like mine, went for more than the asking price as people would bid over it. It’s worth a hell of lot more than I paid for it, but I’m sure that the one in the Beresford could fetch a cool mil.
How could I not be an ardent capitalist? I like luxury too much. I’m obsessed with real estate, though I have always been too scared to buy it for investment purposes. I’m the type to call the super to change a light bulb. That’s an old JAP joke–first you call daddy, then he calls the super. My dad would have been proud had I done that, but I always had many male goyium friends to help me. Goyium is one of my ten Yiddish words and means Non Jews.
Not only can I be every character on Seinfeld without batting an eye; I can be (and yes this scares me) Al Franken. No, not physically, thankfully but the old Jewish lady going on and on about her land and her rights. First time I saw that I was on the floor, laughing. I had no relatives who were like that. My maternal grandmother was a very elegant cultured woman who could cook like nobody else, and made me the most amazing clothes. Yes she was a Communist, but that was only one part of her. She was the marrying type; just liked having a man in the bed. We’ll have never been sure if she married the third. It was common for older people not to marry for Social Security purposes. We loved that husband, and hated the next one who we know she married. He outlived her and took everything in her apartment.
Her apartment was filled with deco sofa’s, beautiful chairs, and tables. It was light and I could stand to be in it unlike every other old person’s apartment or house. They were so dark and dreary.
My grandmother had a perfume bottle collection that I had coveted from the time I could first understand beauty in glass and lines. I collect glass and have since before it became trendy. Sure that I have visceral memories of my grandmother’s collection. My mother somehow saved her candlesticks.
Everybody else is grandmother’s candlesticks are silver, ornate, and mammoth; mine are Plexiglas’s with rose’s inside. They fit me. Though much of my furniture is metal, and I’m a silver person, I’m so not into ornate.
Okay now that I took that mammoth detour, the NYPD is going to begin random searches of people entering the subways. As a resident of Manhattan, I’m not upset by it. As long as there’s no racial profiling. I can’t see that happening in the beginning at least. I don’t think that the NYPD would do this without having some information about possible attacks. A part of me finds random searches almost reassuring. I’m not sure that thinking that mortifies me. Am I falling into a trap? Would I let them search my apartment next? I can’t imagine that I would ever willingly give up First Amendment rights. By not being upset about this am I beginning to fall into a giving up my rights mindset.
I’m honestly confused. Random searches will no longer be a hypothetical here. Today is the first day of the new world. Why am I somewhat reassured?
But I could be a hundred percent wrong. I’m really interested in your opinions about this.