The Snowy month of January has passed

Dear oh dear, what a month that was.
New york, my city of choix, i officially declare that, it should become my status on facebook - 'NY, my city...' ah smug, ah I love smug, ah I feel smug. And how do i know all that? because I read the village voice when everyone else is reading the daily press (the equivalent to the Sun, horrible horrible piece of reading, without the page 3 though) and when everyone else is carrying those black carrier bags I carry a recyclable paper carrier bag from the 'Whole food store'.
Now if there was a Heaven somewhere, where you go when you're dead, and that heaven would happen to be a food store, this is how it would look like.
I can't even start to describe the wholeness (hence the name), the richness, the pleasure and the absolute fine delicacies that are stacked on the shelves, fridges, carving boards, salad and desserts bars and fromagerie, not to mention the fruit and veg section and the second floor with all the big organic, fresh, un this and un that creams, soaps, air fresheners and rubbish refuse sacks that you can add to all your organic, fresh, un this and un that food that you can buy or eat there.
I was there on the day of the Superbowl and as an approval of my growing smugness (or just not compromising on good, fresh high quality food, there, I'm done apologising) this lady stood next to me just as I was exploring the milk and butter section, searching for butter that was produced from some super cows who only ate super grass in a super farm, and was talking on her phone.
Then when she said to the other person on the line - 'we people who shop at this store obviously don't care about no Superbowl' I was close enough to hear it and it was one of those moments when you know that the other person wanted you to hear it.
So I managed a very humble smile, and she looked at me and said down the phone - 'The guy next to me with the guitar on his back (i carried a guitar on my back that day) is smiling' she continued 'we artsy fartsy people don't care about no Superbowl'. She had a heavy Brooklyn accent and later I saw her eating a soup from the soup bar and throwing away the cup, very artsy fartsy indeed.
As for me, i was just about to pay when I noticed a chips bar (Pomme frites as the artsies and fartsies call it) and had to order the small portion, only because I knew I'm not going to get any potatoes which by any chance were not just picked up yesterday (or even that morning) and might have received a splash or two of some potato enhancing taste and were about to be sent straight to MacDonald's at the crack of dawn.
I had given a choice of about 3775 sauces (well slightly less, but it felt like it was this many
for my tired eyes) and finally chose the pesto mayonnaise. Not only that, but when they frites had come out all grizzling oil from the fryer, the man tossed them real good with some Hawaiian salt. 'Spicy' was the only word he said and walked away.
I paid for my shopping and left into the chilly evening.
I was about to cross over to East Houston st, when a Homeless man approached me, he said - 'want to help the Homeless? one day they'll help you'.
I almost wanted to turn my head and praise him for that thought and give him my garlic bagel i just purchased, but something inside stopped me from doing so, probably because I felt this very strong feeling that I can't help everyone on the street, so why even start right now?
I had so many occasions where I could have given something to someone who presented a very good display of emotions but I didn't in the end.
It reminded me of my trip to India in 2000 - so many beggars, so many sick people asking for your money, small children carrying their baby sisters and brothers, and you the western Oligarch, walking around them with your big Rupee notes.
There was no point giving anything to anyone if you were to spend time at the same spot for say more than two weeks, so I've learned. Reason being that you were to end up being chased around for more and the word would travel to the neighbouring village where everyone will come from there to ask you as well.
I always used to randomly pick a beggar and left a small donation as I was leaving the place, that was a goodbye gesture and sign of appreciation to the people who were out there struggling at each moment of the day to earn or scrounge a rupee or two while being subjected to insults and physical abuse from local passers by or hot headed policeman who had nothing better to do.
I'm going to do the same thing here when I leave - I'll pick my bum randomly and leave something, some loose change, or a piece of fruit, or maybe even a portion of pomme frites from the 'whole food store' with some Pesto mayo or some sophisticated sauce like that. And not to forget the Hawaiian salt of course, Mmmm 'Spicy' I'll say to the person who'll kindly take it from me, and then I'll just turn and walk away.