Bluejake

I keep seeing Paul Auster. Last weekend, I was returning my parent's car to Park Slope after a drive out to Long Island, and I saw Paul Auster standing on the corner of Carroll Street and 7th Avenue. This struck me as odd, because although Paul Auster and I lived in the same neighborhood for the 18 years I was growing up, I had never seen him on the street before. Last night, I was leaving the apartment on Thompson Street and going out to meet K and her friends in front of the Thom hotel down the block. Paul Auster was sitting at the front table in the restaurant on the first floor of our building. He was with a bunch of people- I think his wife Siri Hustvedt was there. This struck me as another odd coincidence, because SoHo is pretty far from Park Slope, and because I had never seen Paul Auster eating at SoHo Steak before.

I posit two theories- either Paul Auster is stalking me, or New York is a lot smaller than I've been led to believe. Auster's novels would argue for the latter proposition, but if I see him having coffee in the atrium at 590 Madison Avenue, I'm going to be pretty suspicious.

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