April 24, 2003

Becoming David Mamet

There was a little diner-type place called the Campus Eatery that was situated on the corner of Greene Street and 4th Street. It was, conveniently enough, right across the street from Tisch Hall, which housed many of my undergraduate classes at the Stern School of Business. Often, it would seem, when I had little time on my hands yet had hunger piercing through my stomach walls, I would stop by there, pick up a quick pizza and sit on one of the stools by the windows which overlooked Greene. Sitting there, I could and would analyze the people who would walk by. To be honest, there wasn’t much else you can do while on a rush and eating. The observation of people utilizes neither of my hands, and my eyes do much of the work. This was a thing to do to spend the time, to waste the time, and especially a thing to do since I, for one, did not enjoy eating alone. I suppose the people on the street were, in a way, who I was eating with. They were, what I called back then, my foodbuddies.

SOURCE: Writing Workshop I / December 15, 2000.

« Raison D'etre / Yesterday's Girl »

I often do that in the library cafe that looks out onto the library walkway. People walk by, and sometimes they stare inside. I like to think there's a special bond going on at the moment they catch me, but I know otherwise. When I look into the cafe and see people looking at me, I think they're weird.

rahat, you're such a voyeur! im going to go and watch the real cancun now...