September 5th, 2009
Who REALLY knows us? Our true selves, our essence & soul, our secrets, our be-all and end-all. I imagine the stock “go to” answer for the majority would be under the umbrella of individuals like our parents, spouse, children, best friend, therapist..perhaps even our psychic. Most of us can be guilty of exuding only our ‘best selves” to those who are closest to us. I don’t think there is malicious intent with our holding back. In fact, it might come from a place of protecting these people from aspects of ourselves that could concern them. Who witnesses us when we are stripped of our facade, at our rawest and our truth is revealed? I will tell you loyal blog reader: Our pet, pharmacist and doorman.
I’ve had animals most of my life and they are amazing listeners, willing to volunteer their affection and sympathetic as hell. Their loyal qualities are so consistent that it doesn’t even bother me if my domesticated furry friend wants to lick his ass while I’m crying about a recent break up. It just proves another one of his meritable qualities. Multitasking. Ironic that we leash our animals...yet they inspire an “unleashing” in us. Have you ever been self conscious about walking around naked in front of your pet? Exactly.
Pharmacists also are in the unique position to comprehend us at our very core. They hand us our medication. No questions asked. Just with a knowing(and sometimes loving glance.) People. Listen to Jax. Seriously consider a romantic relationship with your pharmacist because if he or she still loves you after distributing you psychotropic drugs or questionable rash cream… Total keeper.
But I think at the top of the list of who knows us best is our doorman. If you never have lived in a doorman building there is a good chance that you’ve never been in the position to have the truths of your life reflected right back at you. I no longer live in a building with a ‘keeper” that provides courtesy and security. A little piece of me has gone missing. In an effort to work through the loss I would like to salute my long lost doorman with an artistic expression that combines beat poetry with the grand eloquent movements of interpretive dance. Please envision me delivering the dialogue below while wearing a spandex body suit and miming the action of catching an imaginary butterfly.
He’s my New York City Doorman
New York City Doorman
He wears short sleeve button downs and comes from a faraway tropical land
The Island of Staten
He’ll buzz up my Chinese delivery and even feed my cat when I'm out of town
That’s right .Oh New York City Doorman, in a city full of misfits.. I seek solace in your lack of education and grammatically incorrect English
It’s so classy when you stare at my breasts, gossip with the UPS man about the strippers you fuck and I adore when you’re remarkably nicer when it comes time for your Christmas bonus
Thanks for just judging me behind my back after you wrongly assume that all my male friends that come and go from my apartment are a string of one night stands
I often fantasize that one day we can be together
I like the sound of Mrs. New York City Doorman
But in the meantime, I just want to thank you for making me like the way I feel about me
You’re my New York City Doorman
Let’s have some quiet time and digest that it is OK that the above populations have gotten “in” and broken our barriers. They’re the real deal. Besides, if we’re withholding information from our therapist because we don’t want to cause her any distress..it could be to our benefit to discuss this matter with our pet, pharmacist and doorman.