I woke to find a kitten licking my face, it was morning and this little white and orange kitten was waking me up. He was puring and meowing and I was staring at the little guy as his fur slid against my skin and as I petted him I realized that i don’t own a cat. I moved my head and everything was heavy, my body was hard to move and the apartment was very bright, the cat continued to play under the sheets and pop its head up for a moment. As I started to realize this wasn’t quiet real I could feel my heart start beating faster and pain struck my spin. The kitten came back and licked me again, I turned and the little fragile kitten relaxed me. I lied there smiling as his nose touched mine. Then my eyes began to hurt, everything started to get fuzzy and doubled, a rush of pain through my spine and up inside my head. I squinted my eyes to focus.

It was morning, but the apartment was darker then moments before. The kitten was no where in site, no more puring or meows. My body felt like i fell out of a car, every muscle burning, my heart racing, eyes still blurry. They were crossed and I had a hard time brining them back around. I didn’t find myself hovering anywhere, instead I felt I was in another dimension and while I was there everything in my apartment looked alive and vibrant. It felt like a warm and wonderful place and the little kitten made me feel relaxed and warm inside.

That wasn’t the first time I was brought to a place like that and the hardest thing I find is to stay there for a while. I never remember how to get myself back to that state. When I am there I don’t realize it at first, but when I do everything about it changes and becomes real. Since I didn’t move around and explore other places like Astral Projection, I call this experience Astral Rejection and at times I have talked to people while lying in my bed, in my apartment. Its like my late night talk show. The funny thing is when they are there I am not scared or shocked and when I do wake up I wonder who they where and were have they gone.

“Can I borrow your cellphone.” she asked.

“What?” I replied a little confused since moments ago “Garbage” was blasting “Paranoid” in my head.

“I need to make an urgent phone call, Its local.” She insisted and was only a foot from me. A true New Yorker who seemed to go over her caffeine intact for the day. The confusion out weighed my paranoia and my cellphone was in the hands of a complete stranger. The bus pulled up, unusually quick and the droves of patient people hogged the entryway.

I made sure she walked in front of me, since my head was thinking of a story about Kevin Spacey who lent a kid in London his cellphone and after the kid started dialing numbers he ran off with it. She entered and sat down in the handicap/elderly area as I slide my metro card in the slot and stood above her. She yapped along for a good five minutes, as I heard her converse with someone about their day. As we got to the next stop, she finally handed me my phone back since I was hanging over her like a trained monkey. By time I got a seat she had already borrowed the cellphone from a young guy sitting across from her.

Her white, rather large, hat and loud voice as she yelled on the phone to the poor soul at the other end made her the center of bus-attention. The old blind man sitting next to her laughed at loud as the Cellphone Borrower snipped at another lady who told the young guy he should get his phone back before she runs off with it.

On the other side of the park she returned the guys phone and raced off the bus. As we passed her barely moving cross town I watched as she stopped yet another man random man on the street. He took out his phone and she started dialing again. I call her the Cellphone Borrower but it was more like Tarzan swinging from branch to another. The bus turned up Madison and I sat back in my seat smiling. The city that never sleeps, never stops surprising me neither.

It seems your never safe from your neighbors renovation. The nice young lady next door had torn her kitchen completely out that day, well not her but the construction people she hired. I of course would rather picture the blond with a sledge hammer pounding away the wall as her Maltese barks after every loud crash. Everyone in the building waiting for the dogs Last Bark! Instead three Spanish speaking guys with ripped jeans, thick accent and plastered smiles broke down the wall and the next morning vacuumed and wiped up the mess. The microfibers of the concrete they were smashing made its way through tiny little holes inside my kitchen wall that is opposing her kitchen wall but never touches, touching kitchen walls would be in violation as would be some sort of insulate.

Since the place was already a mess and I was in no mood to see which Desperate house wife was getting, slapped, dumped or shot at this week I decided to exit the situation in New York fashion. Calling around I ended up getting an early dinner (8pm) with a friend at Jekyll and Hyde Club since she had out of towner’s who needed a place to snap some pictures and ask “why on earth would someone actually eat here?” After an evening of live entertainment, theater students acting as crazy scientists and talking shark heads, I did return home, opened a beer and watched the show. After a hard day and unexpected events its good to watch a show that people actually suffer more then you. Long live Desperate House Wives.