get on the bus.

fOrGeT mE nOt. so this morning after my 6.45am yoga class i ran a few errands and then decided i felt like being lazy and taking the bus to get back to the l train to get back to brooklyn. i have a new found love affair with the m14a bus. especially because when i sit in those fun seats that rotate when it makes turns (where the two halves of the bus connect) my feet don't even hit the ground. and the buses in manhattan offer people watching on a whole new level. it's an experience. and i'm becoming addicted quite frankly. anyway, we were going up avenue a and i had one of those moments of needing to know exactly where i was, so i abruptly turned to check the passing street sign, and noticed that this particular corner has been dubbed "father mancini corner". i don't know who that is and i really don't care, either. it's just that my mind went "mancini...who was that kid from elementary school with the name like that?...he had the weirdest first name...what the hell was it?...man..man......man...manfred! manfred. not mancini. rancini? manfred rancini?.............."
and then i got aggravated because i really cannot remember his last name. i can tell you exactly what he looks like, but i cannot remember his name. and this is not the first time this has happened to me. i am starting to lose pieces of information from my youth, which is growing increasingly distant. they may be insignificant pieces of information, it may be surprising to some that i had even retained them past graduating from high school, but, still, i feel like it's all downhill from here. i'm just going to start forgetting more and more. and then eventually it will be a crapshoot if i will remember what we just talked about when you ask me about it tomorrow. it's just a waiting game now for the dimensia to kick in and then all those little pieces of information, like manfred's name, will come rushing back. say what you will, i gotta confess i'm kind of looking forward to that. i mean, yes, it will suck to not have any idea where i am or who i am talking to, doing things like trying to eat cigarettes out of ashtrays, but it will be nice to be able to remember exactly who was in my third grade language arts class. and what we all wore on picture day. and when lindsay bates and allison dixon had the grade dividing fight, who fell into which camp because, at the moment, i am having trouble remembering which side liz adler ended up on.