Back when I still thought Mike Donahue was bringing me snacks…
Jean Callais’ Villon.
Taking a break from a life lived in colored post-it notes. Johannes Göranson’s Dear Ra remains an ongoing fascination.
- The potential juror who got into an argument with the judge over systems of oppression and how certain key parts of the American justice system perpetuate them. NEW YORK LIBERALS: I LOVE YOU.
- The judge, whose sense of humor was dry as a bone, and who informed us, “I know this is an inconvenience. I appreciate your time. I assure you, I do not need to hear exactly how inconvenient this is for you.”
- The guy running the metal detector, who was using this as an opportunity to practice his stand-up on the line of people waiting to pass through. Many of the jokes involved his relationship to his mother, which seems to be loving but fraught.
- The 15th floor women’s room, where I took five minutes to spike my hair into a tidal-wave before entering the court room and being evaluated as a prospective juror. (Spoiler alert: I was not selected.)
- The part where they told me I don’t need to come back for 4-6 years.