Saturday, 05 July 2003 | Green face

I've discovered something disturbing about the green face mask that I think to swirl on my skin once every three months or so: it is a crystal ball. I apply it and forget about it (unless I accidently touch it or turn the phone green) and continue doing whatever it is I do in my apartment until my Halloween face dries. Just before I wash it off, I can't help noticing the places where it cracked, the predetermined lines in my face that are currently being carved by a combination of repeated facial expressions and time, not unlike the persistent chiseling of the Grand Canyon by the Colorado River.

I can't see the lines very well without the green mask, which makes them easy to ignore. I don't look old (I'm often accused of being in my early twenties), and I certainly don't feel old. I'm not ready to be in the target audience for anti-aging and wrinkle creams. I don't want to be jealous of those younger than me. I don't want to even think about it. Thanks, green face mask.

...

Last night I joined the rest of New York on top of one of the flat rooftops that collectively form the city, which stand at various elevations like a scrambled Q-Bert gameboard. I was on top of the Domino Sugar plant, just at the base of the Williamsburg Bridge, at the edge of the East River. There were bands and grilled food. There was a nice view of the city, of the low, orange sun, of the sliver of moon, and of people, many of whom were wearing distinctly 80s fashion, such as hot pink lace socks and high heels, cheerleader skirts, and asymmetrical haircuts.

It wasn't as much fun as I'd hoped; I'm wondering if it's because of the pressure of the holiday. (New Year's Eve parties are often some of the worst, right?)

There were fireworks, of course. I don't dislike fireworks, but I've never really understood their appeal. They seem wasteful and basic, and they remind me of noisy toys strapped across a baby's crib, and of the baby's reaction, the way it gurgles and oohs and aahs at the colors and the noise. Certainly some fireworks are pretty.

I chose not to think much about my mixed feelings about my country, about the things I like, the things I don't. It was just a party on a roof, among other roof parties, which all happened to have fireworks.