New York City. Sunset: 6:34pm. Moon: Waning crescent. Weather: Mostly cloudy and 77 degrees with steadily increasing humidity and a low of 59. It’s too warm for October, yet C. and I are dreaming about the desert again. Today I told someone I want to live in the New Jersey of Las Vegas, which sounds like a curse, but I absolutely meant it.
Spent the afternoon at a get-together on the Brooklyn piers talking with people I did not know. I listened to them discuss film distribution, Istanbul’s club scene, sadism, book pitches, South Korean cinema, and the architecture of Dubai. There was a different texture to these conversations, the noises of friends of friends making small talk at a party. Two hours later, I realized: not one person mentioned the pandemic. It’s simply an unpleasant fact of life now, like talking over a car alarm.
