Sunday, 29 August 2004 | RNC NYC

On Friday the train to work was less crowded than usual, due to the exodus caused by the coming Republican National Convention. The streets are a little emptier too. I wonder how many New Yorkers have to leave the city for their absence to be noticeable. A lot, certainly.

They have been replaced by cops, who are sprinkled around the subway stations, while blimps and helicopters are sprinkled in the sky. The helicopter noise is amplified by the buildings of Manhattan, which echo the sound like boomerangs. At night, they announce themselves with searchlights that paint the city in revealing white stripes.

So many ways to show your opposition to the current administration, and to the RNC itself. I've spent time both in the middle of it and outside of it, recognizing purpose and importance and creative responses, and sneaking away to the unaffected parts of the city for balance.

I saw the end of one march and participated in another (the sky was blue and hot), spent a rare (and pleasant) evening with I., watched political documentaries in a parking lot in the Lower East Side (helicopters buzzing by like insects), weaved through the middle of a loft party on roller skates (no one else had any wheels, but for some reason I was okay with that), went to a political art opening that served No-Busch beer (the "No" was added to each can with red ink), sat on freshly laid turf grass on Stuart's roof among several of his friends (presenting ourselves for introductions), and listened to Dan C. over dinner as he told a chain of amusing stories, pulling them out of nowhere like magic rabbits and making the rest of us laugh.

Among other things. My weekends are too often like a size 12 girl trying to fit into a size 6 dress, cramming and stuffing until the seams bloat. Simultaneously unrealistic, satisfying, and exhausting.