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you're sitting on the street selling your wares. the sun is high and bright in the summer sky; the clouds interspersed with glowing edges.
there is a girl with a polka dotted dress on. there are ruffles on the shoulders which extend into the empire waist, then billows out with a floating airy bell shape. the girl appreciates the fact that her dress is made of a thousand tiny red polka dots, and that that her panties are patterned with larger white polka dots on red. her shoes are golden gladiator sandals that don't look gaudy, her feet are perfect for them, and her toenails are a bold mauvish-pink. you should have asked her to be one of your portraiture models because you need more portraits and headshots on your website, but you don't because maybe it seems creepy, but it probably wouldn't be? in any case, she sort of makes your day with sharing that oddly open bit of information, while her euro-boyfriend leans on a tree in the nearby shade about ten feet away, grumpy and bespectacled in silly overly-masculine sunglasses. he's probably awesome though, maybe...probably not.
there are babies and dogs everywhere. both are interested in your shoes and pay a lot of attention to your feet.
to your right is your new friend that sells beautiful hair clasps adorned with various blooming flowers. she yelled at a man in the morning because he wanted to retain the right to be a self-righteous white man who served his country proudly and what did you do for yours how old are you i was fighting for freedoms you enjoy before you were even able to walk so think about that before you ask me to move two feet over so you too can enjoy the shade of this tree oh yeah oh yeaahhh well no one owns the sidewalk this is new york city property and i will sell my three harmonicas and a hardcover bound harry potter gift set with american pride so's i can make a living for myself just like the rest of my fellow veterans.
my friend and fellow vendor do not see eye to eye. in fact i notice that even i don't really know what to say or do, so i shuffle my feet and become fascinatingly interested in reading my horoscope in the latest L magazine.
you're selling pinback buttons and greeting cards of your own creation, and there's a perhaps 38 year-old man rifling though your wares. he seems to be really excited at all of the potential little gifts these would make and he giggles gleefully to himself as he meticulously looks at every single button in your collection. in the end he buys 56 buttons from you and you shake his hand for the mutual entertainment value you've shared with him.
a good friend of yours and her awesome b/f swing on by your spot and engage you for many many minutes of conversational blisses. she looks through your varied wares, and he talks you about how obscure some of the "world of film and television" ones are. you completely revel in the fact that he's chosen the buttons which speak to his interests and you are glad that you share the same passion for film-watching.
you realize at 4pm that you detest all of the shitty burritos you've ever eaten in williamsburg. why did you even want to get another williamsburg burrito in the first place? what a strange and odd desire. how could you possibly have been that hungry at all?
a belgian friend of the other vendor on corner regales you on the reasons why he loves thailand, and you two talk for a couple hours on what aspects of living in thailand were the best and how come all the thai food in new york city, save a very small handful are completely disgusting. he wanders around a lot and in the end, skateboards with three overweight loud kids in one of the side-streets. he reminds you to be more open to amazing mundane and profound moments, because what else are we doing here.
you make friends with a lot of people today, and in that manner span lifetimes with them all in a matter of a few sentences. skater kids, gutter punks from philly, young trustafarians, hipsters in all flavors, girls with great fits but horrible shoes, a bevvy of outstandingly clad gay men, and puppies puppies puppies!
to your left another vendor sells $10 keds which are new and varied in their designs. if you wore keds, you see yourself buying a couple pairs, but you don't so you don't. he steps away and asks you if you could help him sell his shoes while he walks off into the far distance for something. you sell a pair of blue shoes with silver dots all over them to a russian woman who's feet are large and rugged, but oddly enough, beautified by the shoes. she loves them and then drives away in her 1970's van with the semi-domed back side window. when the vendor returns, he splits the sale with you and with those $5 you buy some lemonade down the street.
your sunday ends up beautiful and fulfilled. you have money in your pocket, a lightness in your heart, and everything seems to have turned out great. you ride your bike home after packing up and walking yur vendor friend back to her studio. it takes all but 15 minutes to get home. you invite a good friend of yours over to drink beers on the roof. your subletter joins you, and you all spend the rest of the night eating mint milano cookies and drinking beers on the roof of your building, basking in the gleaming overhead moonlight.
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