{bazima.com}

So I was in the New York Costume store to look for my boyfriend's Buffy the Vampire Slayer cheerleader episode Halloween outfit when I ran in to Yoko Ono trying on masks.

She tried on every masquerade type mask there was. She'd pick up one, put it around her head, look in the mirror, take it off, pick up another one, put it around her head, look in the mirror, take it off. There was a tall gray-haired gentlemen with her clearly trying to get her in and out of there as quickly as possible before the civilians circled her with their camera phones. Fortunately, I had my camera with me as per usual.

Boy, is she tiny! Also, her hair had brown highlights in it. It's funny to think of the hippie Mrs. Lennon getting cut, colored, and styled. I guess her costume is going to be pretty low maintenance this year. I wonder what party she's going to. I should have tried to fake her out. I should have gone up to her and gave her a big kiss on the cheek.

"Yoko! Hi! I haven't seen you in forever! I think Sean's party was the last time! So are you going to that Halloween party this year?"

"Um, I---"

"I got the invitation, it was fabulous! You know, the party that what's-their-names are throwing. God, why am I blanking on their names?"

"Matthew Barney and Bjork?"

"Yes! Matt and B! I'm so excited! Now they live down there on, uh, what is it? Second Avenue..."

"11th Street?"

"Yes! 11th Street and, oh, um, what is the cross street? It's, um..."

"Second?"

"Yes! That's right. It's that fabulous place. 322 11th Street!"

"...555."

"Right! 555 11th Street! I'm not good with numbers. Well, great! So I guess I'll see you there! Love your mask! Happy Halloween, Yoko! Give peace a chance!"

It's funny because several hours earlier, and just a few blocks from my apartment, I did the sidewalk dance with Jennifer Connelly. I practically smacked foreheads with her. She went left, I went left. She went right, I went right. It was a good time. She must not have recognized me. She seemed distracted. I won't hold it against her. Anyway, I look really different in person than I do... um, wherever. Also, she may have recognized me, but maybe she didn't know whether to call me Blaise or Bazima so she was too afraid to say anything. That happens a lot. She looks exactly like she does on the big screen. Kind of conceited?

Anyway, so, the Halloween store was like Grand Central Station. People running around every which where. Usually, this is enough to make me go to bed for 24 hours. But tonight it didn't bother me. I'm too excited about this upcoming festive weekend. I was even delighted by the stupid snippets of conversations I heard as I weaved through the crowds.

"No one is ever going to recognize me!"

"I need a Harry Potter tie and a merkin to go with these bunny ears!"

Things like that.

When I stepped into the wig section the salesgirl in there was checking her look in the mirror as she chatted with one of the customers. The salesgirl was dressed in a long, black, vinyl skirt and a plaid t-shirt under a black t-shirt that had been ripped to shreds. She had Marilyn Manson contact lenses on her eyeballs. This was not her work costume. All the goth kids work at this year-round Halloween store wearing their year-round Robert Smith gear. Being goth is a full-time job.

"I'm waiting until the last minute," Salesgoth said. "I'm just gonna go to the Gap, or something, and get some preppy clothes and take out all of my piercings and stuff and scare the shit out of all my friends."

Halloween in New York City. It's a wonderful life.