The Moth Ball

Last night, some of my favorite things got a chance to come together in one place.

I got an invite to the Moth Ball, a literary non profit in New York that is dedicated to the art of storytelling. Hosted by my absolute favorite MN celebrity - Garrison Keillor, and not-so-midwestern actor John Turturro, it was a lively evening with an amazing show. In the audience, I drooled over Ira Glass sitting just a few tables over, and got to enjoy a wonderful story told by none other than Salman Rushdie.

The food was delicious, the drinks were flowing and the cocktail dresses were adorable. By far, one of the best evenings thus far.

fuck you asshole!

yesterday evening, james, a fellow brand planner, and i left work during prime rush hour - 6pm. the station and the train were both packed, with people practically hugging each other while reaching out to grip the poles. the two of us shimmied our way into the train car, along with 20 or more others packing the place full. james and i were mid conversation when i heard a snark remark, clearly directed towards me.

"this is like the second time you've bumped into me!" a younger guy, obviously extremely self important and quite sensitive about personal space, railed at me. i turned my head, now facing him - he was maybe in his late twenties, with long brown curly hair and glasses. he was wearing a jacket, but as it rode up on his arm, it exposed some shitty tattoos. his whole appearance spoke "i am better than you, cooler than you, and smarter than you".

"excuse me?" i said, at which point he repeated his whining. it took all my might to hold it back and say, "i am so sorry if i've invaded your space! the train is just so packed, but i do apologize about bumping into you - it won't happen again." i was in awe of myself. somehow, instead of punching the shit in his face, i managed to be nice. i didn't mean it, but still, it came off sounding somewhat sincere.

i looked down at the people seated and the people around me, and everyone grinned at me rolling their eyes at him. they all knew. james knew. he knew. i knew. none of us had his back. in fact, many of us were stabbing him in it in our minds at the very moment. i may have been nice, but the silence of the crowd spoke much louder. "fuck you, asshole!" we said silently.

so thanks fellow new yorkers, and i say this with no sarcasm what so ever. thanks for your eye rolls and your grins - i know you were feeling what i wasn't saying. and thanks for your silent opposition, and your telepathy. i really never felt more at home.

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(click the image for the best thing in the world)

so many reasons i like this. here are two:
1. tom waits
2. the wire