Last month, the day following a blizzard, I took a 90-minute walk around Brooklyn during which every sentence I spoke contained the word “slop.” Here’s a 2-minute Mp3 of that walk called “Slop.”
New York City is an infinite zone for walking and talking. On any given day, you can have either sustained or quick conversations – depending on your preference. Many dialogues unfold with people you’ll never see again (in spite of the common farewell “See you later”).
The “slop” walk was designed as an experiment. I’d searched my brain for a word uniting us all, one arousing laughter and frustration, and “slop” is what I came up with. So I hit the slushy sidewalks.
“Slop” ends with a violet-haired hairdresser on cigarette break in front of a slop pile. I said: “It must be nice to smoke a cigarette and contemplate the slop.” Her response: “Exac…you know what? That’s, I thought you were gonna say how beautiful – no, you’re absolutely right. Absolutely.”
I couldn’t have anticipated this response, or any of the others. At bottom “Slop” is a meditation on the city sidewalk’s humorous randomness.