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I Heart New York

Twice this week a similar incident: A young woman is sure I'm someone else, in one case "Liza," in the other an artist from Skowhegan, Maine.

Nope & nope.

The first time it was at White Columns for Richard Hell's opening, & Elizabeth & I ended up chatting for quite a while as she nervously waited to meet Richard. Tonight it was getting off the subway, & although Claudia & I failed to find anyone we knew in common, we had such a friendly time trying that she gave me a big hug as we parted.

I imagine that if you live in most places, these sorts of random encounters are less likely, & certainly less anonymous. Whenever I met someone in Maine or the Adirondacks, they already knew everyone I knew & some story was sure to get around. I probably won't see Elizabeth or Claudia again, so we can go full out in pure friendship, even if it's only for a few minutes.

I came home, wrote that much, then saw a clip of someone talking about predictors of life expectancy. The #1 predictor—ahead of exercise, not smoking or drinking, getting the flu shot et al—was what they called social integration, meaning how many people you talk with on a daily basis. I pretty much talk to everyone I interact with, from the bus driver to the girl at the Y to those young women. Hooboy, 100 here I come!
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