2004-02-17 - 8:53 p.m.

And I felt lucky, right then, aware of being lucky that I didn't get crushed by it. I realized that I do feel lucky, almost all the time. Lucky to have the boyfriend, and a healthy, supportive family, and an apartment in the very place I've always wanted to live, and a job I like with an ample salary. Lucky to have ducked tragedy another day, missed being crushed by something much bigger, much darker, than a vending machine.

Sometimes you just need a near-death experience involving a candy machine to bring it home.

I had drinks tonight with Maria and Jerry, and on the way out of the train station there was a skinny, dirty woman wrapped in a filthy Mexican blanket. She was hollow-eyed, with gray teeth and sunken cheeks, and she was begging in a pitiful voice, I'm so hungry, please, so hungry...

I had to go to the deli across the street, to get money from the ATM and a pack of smokes, and I thought about it for a second, and thought, even junkies have to eat. So I bought her a sandwich, and a bagel and some fruit and nuts and raisins, some granola bars. A yogurt shake and a bottle of water. And I went back across the street, and I hung the bag on her outstretched finger. She said, "Thank you, thank you. What is it? What's in there?" And I told her, and she said, "Can I ask you something please? Can you give me some money?"

Bitch, ASK for money. If I want to give money I do, but don't ask me for food someone else needs when what you need is a fix.

But anyway. I'll still do it. Because I feel lucky.

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