What Colors the Steel Sky Blue

PLEASE NOTE: The following events did not take place in 2010. The original entry was written way back in 2002 about events that took place in 2001. I somehow saved it as a draft and never published it. I guess I was still a little embarrassed about the whole thing. Now that the media, reality shows and social networking has left no shame in us all, I find it not a problem to post this story. Hope you enjoy it. The story is presented not to shame Jamie in any shape or form but to entertain and illustrate how life in a big/small city can be frustrating at times.

I live in Stuyvesant town amongst a sad set of brick buildings and greenery to put other parks on the island to shame. Amongst such beauty resides an immense sadness whose source to me is unknown. Perhaps it is a sadness of the years past or it is my own sadness, a fruit of my current state. Perhaps both. Either way living here in my brick and concrete cell feels like curling up in my own misery, somewhat a comfortable bed; one that I never chose to lay in, but I am too tired to try leaving.

I can almost feel this current run through my body as I leave the Stuyvesant town. The jolt, nevertheless imaginary, still makes me feel like a dog running past an electric fence. Once on the outside, it is almost harder to go back in to Stuyvesant town.

Outside it is crazy; it is wild; it is non-stop; and it demands your attention at all times. Outside there is no time to sulk, no time to stop and ponder; outside I must keep moving; the trees cast shadows on me no longer. Outside, one can sometimes be happier than he is in Stuyvesant town.

Living on this tiny piece of flat land called Manhattan, one is bound to run into some people over and over and over. In any other town, you would get eventually get to meet these people, perhaps even make good friends with them. Not in Manhattan.

In Manhattan these are the people you will try to avoid by taking a different path home everyday. Sounds insane but don't tell me you never did this.

What's worse than these random meetings is the possibility that each time one person may be more spooked than the other. One of these daily encounters can put one person in the role of the stalker and the the other in the role of the stalked. This is not to say that one person is always the stalker and the other always the stalked. In fact the roles of these unsuspecting strangers change faster than what's hot in the pop charts.

Well such a person for me is Jamie Harrold, an up and coming actor who has done a decent set of movies and also strangely enough works out at my gym. I kept running into him rollerblading in East Village and or course at the gym in the evenings.

I absolutely had no idea who he was for the longest time. He always looked strangely familiar to me; but then again this happens pretty frequently with me so I did not give it any thought. Finally a couple of weeks ago I was going through my DVD collection looking for something to watch. I decided to give Erin Brockovich another spin.

Halfway through the movie, right when my energy levels were hitting rock bottom and I was considering watching the rest of the movie the next day, there he was on screen. He was the waterboard guy in the movie. It's a small world, and a smaller city.

A couple of days ago I went up to him on my way out the gym and said "hey!". I admit I was trying to keep my cool because I have always found initial conversations with strangers, well just that, strange. He was friendly. We shook hands and I kinda gushed that I really liked the Erin Brokovich. He kinda did not know what to say. I was slipping towards acting like a groupie fast so I kinda cut it short and said bye. Overall I think I did not do too bad. I was hoping I could have a few more follow up conversations with him later -- since I saw him at the gym and on the street everyday!

Well I was wrong. After we met, this cloud of discomfort settled on his face every time he saw me. I was starting to believe that I was put in the role of the stalker and wanted no part of it. The coincidence of running into him all over East Village went from being a daily joke to being darn right annoying. I was truly going on about my life, changing my path, taking another subway line, trying alternative routes, alternative gyms and he seemed to be EVERYWHERE....

First we stopped saying hi, then we stopped acknowledging each other on the street, and soon enough we were strangers again. Ah, the comfort of being complete strangers. I am not planning to give it up so easily next time.