Illusion on Lexington and 4th
Steam rises through a manhole cover as I emerge from the southwest exit of Grand Central station in Manhattan en route to donate my sperm. I moved to New York City from rural Vermont a few months ago fueled by a lifetime of vague romantic ideas about New York City that I'm now replacing with experience. The streets carry the bodies of the wealthy, the aspiring to be wealthy, and the homeless. The subway cars are filled with these bodies, who brush up against one another. 🚅🚅🚅🚅🚅🚅🚅🚅🚅 🚅🚅🚅 The sperm donation office is in a really tall metal skyscraper. From the street it looks like a giant Pez dispenser. I imagine what's going on inside– laughter, bustling around desks and computers, smiling faces, and tables with catered food. Each office space for 70 floors contains a new cast of characters, playing out their dramas. I take the e...