I AVOIDED OLIVES MY WHOLE LIFE BUT SUDDENLY I CAN'T STOP EATING THEM (GREEN ONES -- I STILL HAVEN'T GOTTEN AROUND TO TRYING THE BLACK ONES YET. THERE'S A CERTAIN KIND OF OLIVE THAT I'VE GROWN ESPECIALLY FOND OF LATELY: THE KIND THAT TASTE LIKE ICE CREAM. DOES ANYONE KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT?

THE SAD THING IS THAT THE SONG IS LIKE 100,000 TIMES WORSE THAN THE WOMAN DANCING.

LND

I WAS IN MY OLD BED IN MY HOUSE IN MIAMI BEACH. I DIDN'T WANT TO GET UP AND GO TO SCHOOL -- NAUTILUS JR. HIGH. IT WAS POURING RAIN. MY MOTHER WAS BEGGING ME TO GO. IT WAS AROUND NOON. I WAS TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHICH CLASSES I HAD MISSED AND IF I HAD ANY ASSIGNMENTS DUE OR TESTS IN THOSE CLASSES. FINALLY I GOT INTO A CAB. I TOLD THE DRIVER THE DESTINATION, "NAUTILUS JR. HIGH" AND HE KNEW WHERE THAT WAS. JULIA WAS IN THE CAB WITH ME. THERE WERE DOWNED TREES ON EITHER END OF NORTH SHORE DRIVE, BUT I TOLD THE DRIVER TO TAKE FAIRWAY DRIVE, WHICH HE DID. THERE WAS A DOWNED TREE AT THE END OF FAIRWAY BUT AS WE APPROACHED, SOMEONE FROM THE CITY CLEARED IT. AS WE TURNED OFF THE ISLAND, IT WAS URBAN, LIKE BROOKLYN. A CAR DROVE BY AND MADE EYES WITH MY SISTER AND I WAS PISSED THAT THEY KNEW EACH OTHER; IN MY MIND IT MEANT THEY HAD SOME SORT OF DRUG-RELATED CONNECTION.

I GOT TO SCHOOL AND WENT TO MS. SPEIGEL'S DRAMA CLASS. THE CLASS WAS ABOUT 1/2 FULL -- BECAUSE OF THE STORM LOTS OF THE STUDENTS AND TEACHERS STAYED HOME AND I WAS PISSED THAT I WASTED CAB FARE. IN LIEU OF ACTUALLY TEACHING THEY WERE PLAYING A SPECIAL ON AN ANDY WARHOL TEN-YEAR CALENDAR ON THE ROLL-OUT VHS/TV. EACH PAGE OF THE TEN-YEAR CALENDAR WAS AN INTERVIEW-MAGAZINE STYLE PROFILE ON SOMEONE ANDY FOUND INTERESTING. E.K. EXCITEDLY WAIVED ME OVER -- ONE OF THE LATER MONTHS WAS DEVOTED TO ME. HE TOOK A POLAROID OF THE SCREEN WHERE THEY TALKED ABOUT THE MONTH.

THE CAPTION ON MY MONTH SAID: I GOT A LETTER FROM JACK SHAMAMA ASKING IF I WOULD BE DO A CAMEO IN HIS HIT GAY PORN SOAP OPERA "WET PALMS" AND I FELL IN LOVE WITH HIM. HE WAS SOME SORT OF WRITER/PORNOGRAPHER AND HE TOLD ME HIS FAVORITE SONG WAS CALLED "FABULOUS MUSCLES" BY A BAND CALL "CHU CHU". (HE MISSPELLED "XIU XIU").

I JUST SORT OF SCANNED IT QUICKLY -- IT WAS ALL TOO MUCH TO DIGEST SO I COULDN'T READ IT THAT CLOSELY, BUT THE FIRST THING THAT CAME TO MIND WAS: HOW DID A.W. KNOW ABOUT ME WHEN HE DIED IN 1987. AND THAT THE ONLY WAY HE COULD HAVE KNOWN ABOUT ME WAS VIA A FAN LETTER I HAD WRITTEN HIM SHORTLY BEFORE HE DIED. (IN NON-DREAM WORLD, I NEVER WROTE HIM A FAN LETTER, BUT IT WAS ACTUALLY IN MS. SPEIGEL'S DRAMA CLASS IN 1987 IN NAUTILUS JR. HIGH I HAD READ IN A NEWSPAPER THAT ANDY WARHOL HAD DIED.)

I WAS PERPLEXED AS HOW ANDY COULD HAVE KNOWN ABOUT ME SINCE HE DIED WHEN I WAS 12. IN MY DREAM, I HAD WRITTEN HIM A FAN LETTER WHEN I WAS YOUNGER BUT IT SEEMED UNLIKELY THAT HE HAD EVER GOTTEN IT -- PLUS HE WAS REFERENCING THINGS THAT HAPPENED AFTER HE DIED. WAS HE STILL ALIVE? HAD I UNCOVERED SOME SORT OF SECRET CONSPIRACY? OR DID HE HAVE SOME SORT OF PSYCHIC POWERS? I WAS COMPELLED TO FIND OUT THE TRUTH, AND INSPIRED BY POTENTIALLY MEETING HIM.

I WENT TO WHAT THE FIRST INCARNATION OF THE FACTORY. THE ADDRESS WAS 266 LEXINGTON AVE. IT WAS AN UN-GENTRIFIED MESS; JUNK EVERYWHERE. POOR PEOPLE STILL LIVED IN THE BUILDING. I WAS LOOKING AROUND: THERE WERE A FEW OLDER SUPERSTARS STILL MINGLING AROUND; THEY WERE ALL REALLY OLD. BILLY NAME WAS THERE. HE WAS IN CHARGE OF THESE GIANT PLANETARIUM-STYLE STAR MAP PROJECTIONS THAT WERE NEATLY STACKED ON SHELVES. EVERYTHING WAS IN DISARRAY AND CRUMBLING.

I GOT ON THE BED AND PONDERED THE TRANSMUTATION OF TIME. ALL THE SUPERSTARS JUMPED INTO BED WITH ME AND POSTULATED THAT THIS WAS SOMETHING ANDY TALKED ABOUT -- A SORT OF SECRET THEORY HE SHARED WITH FEW OTHER PEOPLE ABOUT TRAVELING TIME THROUGH MEDITATION. LILY TOMLIN, IN HER EXISTENTIAL DETECTIVE ROLE FROM "I HEART HUCKABEES" JUMPED INTO BED AND WE TRIED TO SEE IF WE COULD TRANSMIT OURSELVES ACROSS TIME AND SPACE. WE GOT UNDER A GOLD BLANKET AND MEDITATED.

I GOT UP OUT OF BED AND WAS UNSURE IF I HAD MANAGED TO SEND MYSELF THROUGH TIME. I LOOKED AROUND FOR EVIDENCE. THERE WAS A STACK OF OLD BLUE FURNITURE LEGS PILED INTO A CORNER. I LOOKED OUT THE WINDOW AT THE POOR PEOPLE WHO IN THE BUILDING ACROSS THE WAY AND REALIZED I WAS STILL IN "TODAY" AND HADN'T SHIFTED THROUGH TIME. I WALKED HOME -- THIS TIME, DOWN OCEAN AVENUE IN BROOKLYN AND LOOKED AT ALL THE BUILDINGS, WHICH WERE RUN DOWN, LIKE HOW I REMEMBER THEM FROM BROOKLYN WHEN I GREW UP THERE, PRE-GENTRIFICATION, AND I WAS MARVELING IN THE FACT THAT THEY WERE SO RUN DOWN AND HAPPY FOR SOME REASON THAT PLACES LIKE THAT STILL EXISTED.

ALONG THE STREET WAS A GIANT $.99-CENT STORE THAT WAS SETTING UP FOR A GRAND OPENING, DECORATED WITH BALLOONS, STREAMERS, AND A RED, WHITE AND BLUE "GRAND OPENING" BANNER. IT WAS A GIANT VICTORIAN BUILDING, AND THE INTERIOR HAD BEEN SLOPPILY PAINTED WHITE (ALL THE VICTORIAN DETAILS AND MOLDING LOOKED LIKE THEY WERE COVERED IN WHITE-OUT. THE SHELVES WERE STOCKED WITH THE KIND OF CRAPPY STUFF YOU'D FIND IN A .99 CENT STORE. I WAS HAPPY THAT THEY KEPT THE ORIGINAL ARCHITECTURE INTACT AND DIDN'T TRY TO MAKE IT LOOK MODERN.

THERE IS SOMETHING PROFOUNDLY DEPRESSING ABOUT MACY'S; AN AURA OF BLEAKNESS FOLLOWS ALL WHO WORK THERE LIKE A DARK CLOUD.