Michael E. Gruen

Remember the days before life was forever chronicled in an Internet Archive?

Recently, I came to the realization that nearly everything I do isn’t ever going away. Nearly every typo and heat-of-the-moment remark remains permanently stored — and indexed! — on search engines and social Web2.0 websites.

I wonder what my kids will think.

Over 14mm photos are uploaded to Facebook a day, with over 100,000 of them video. Twitter passed the 1Bn tweet mark a month or so ago, and though this blog has only existed for less than a year, it features over 25 posts.

Yes yes, I know: 25 posts pales in comparison to the Tumblratti’s diligence or ego-bloggers’ persistence; but, consider that  you can probably pick out only a dozen or so experiences from you childhood that had any significant bearing in your life. Further, only half of those would be worth mentioning in your [auto]biography. Now, we  share it all.

In kindergarten we assembled a time-capsule. Though it’s decades later and I’m near certain my teacher and classmates have long forgot about it, I remember the care and thought that went into selecting our objects and writing our messages. The exercise forced us to take stock about what’s important to communicate to future generations. In effect, we editorialized.

Nowadays, we inundate ourselves with lifestreams. And though every once in a while we unpack, sort, and sift through our user-generated monsters, in the moment, I don’t think we really take stock of every little piece of ourselves that we share– much less how they shape that beast. Now, the capsule is a timeline.

The implications are far too numerous to explore here; after all, this is just another moment on a blog.

They’re not quite tourist attractions, but they’re definitely part of the landscape.

Some people just stick out. There’s nothing really notable about some of these people, but if you live in or visit New York City, I’m 90% sure you’ll know at least one if not two of these people by description. These characters aren’t labeled as neatly as the naked cowboy, but they’re definitely identifiable.

1. The bucket drummer (and his wife)
   Usually hanging in Union Square, this guy bangs on buckets loudly. A woman, enamored with his skills, joined him, married him, and now buckets along side. So the story goes.
2. That big homeless guy
   I see this guy everywhere. He wears a brown sweatshirt with blue sweatpants, usually carrying something in a hurry. He’s a white guy, black hair, looks a little like a rounder Richard Kind. Really nice guy. Often seen scurrying around midtown. 
3. The Central Park dancing boxing man
   Take the 60th and 5th ave entrance to the Central Park Loop. Just before the merge, you’ll see an old-school boxer — often with cape — throwing punches or doing warmups. Sometimes, he swings to rocky-style music. Usually seen on weekends.
4. The Kokyu-playing old man on the BDFV line
   He reminds me that I’m on the west side. He sells CDs last time I checked. 
5. The pouting homeless couple
   Always in midtown east, between 45th and madison to 60th and lexington. They sit next to each other, put their heads together, and have a cardboard sign that begs for dollars. Sometimes, their sign rests on a paint can. I think they’re full of shit.
6. Greenway trombonist
   For those who frequent the west-side greenway, north to the George Washington Bridge*, every weekend a shirtless man plays his trombone. He’s actually quite good, but I’ve only heard a few notes as I’m usually flying by on my two-cycle.
7. Vegetable cutter
   Upper east side man in a suit cuts fresh vegetables for you. It’s a bit bizarre.
8. The breakdancing troupe
   Usually performing around Bryant Park and Times Square, these guys breakdance. Watch your belongings! Pickpockets tend to follow these guys around and steal tourists wallets. As such, there’s usually a cop standing nearby. 
9. The drawing War Veteran
   Sits near 19th and Park Avenue South, this man draws. His art is mediocre, but his heart is pure gold.
10. Tarzan
    Frequenting Union Square, this guy’s Tarzan for the 21st century. He must work in construction or something. 

Someone should start a repository for these people. Perhaps that someone is me.

–

*I don’t know if anyone else has noticed, but that area near the GWB never lacks someone sitting there or hanging around. I wonder if it’s undercover surveillance.

I move next month. No roommates. No compromises. What ridiculousness will come?

Since college, I’ve lived with one of my best friends from high school. It’s been fun, but he needs to move in with his girlfriend and I need my own place. Shared living space means compromises and concessions; and now, for the first time ever, I have complete freedom.

I’m excited and have begun thinking about the implications.

1. More Nudity
   With the prospects of the roommate (or his girlfriend) arriving at any time, I found it good practice to wear pants at all times. No longer an issue, I’ll likely forgo pants around my apartment. 
    
2. Less Laundry 
   More nudity also means I’ll be doing less laundry as I’ll be wearing fewer clothes. Seems logical.
    
3. More Gym Time
   More nudity also means I’ll notice how out of shape I’ve become. I’ll likely go to the gym more, or spend more time on my two-cycle.
    
4. More Laundry
   Frequent gym time doubles my load, so I guess I will have more laundry after all.
    
5. No Cable TV
   My current roommate compulsively watches TV. (He gets antsy without the Trinitron’s warm glow.) I tend to watch shows without commercials on DVD, and entire series in one sitting. I suspect I’ll skip the Cable, Blockbuster and Netflix accounts and just buy an AppleTV. 
    
6. No Stuffed Animals In The Living Room
   The only fight my roommate ever won was the stuffed animal debacle. Right now, a Mr. Snuffleupagus and a Tux penguin (holding a hand-written “NO LOAFING” sign) [dis]grace the living room. While every girl who’s ever visited the living room thought they were adorable, I still can’t stand them. At least I relegated the stuffed amoebas to the roommate’s bedroom. (Yes, he owns stuffed amoebas.)
    
7. Cups Will Be Stacked Rim-Up
   When you live with someone, little lifestyle differences begin to crop up. I stack cups rim up; my roommate does rim down. I won that battle, but he still puts the silverware the wrong way in the dishwasher. (Two years and it still bothers me.)
    
8. Better Music
   My roommate discovers music through Volkswagen and Apple ads. ‘Nuff said.
    
9. More Home Cooking
   My roommate and I love ordering from SeamlessWeb. It’s our favorite thing. But, with a supermarket next door, I now have no excuse.

It’s like my own magical DisneyWorld. I’m too excited to sleep.