On opposite corners across 84th are our two other neighborhood delis: Hiram (NW) and George & Sons (SW). These are more standard than K.Y., with sandwich counters, coffee, etc. They stock identical items, and until recently, were set up the exactly same, except Hiram is run by a Middle Eastern family, George & Songs an Italian family.

While K.Y. sits serenely a block south, keeping its own company, these two delis glare at each other from across narrow 84th locked in their eternal, silent feud.

When Hiram cleaned and replaced their awning a couple years ago, so did George & Sons. Last summer when George finally got an ATM (with three large ATM signs added to their windows), within a week, so had Hiram (with five signs added).

They are constantly adding or subtracting stock based on the others. I use to run into George & Son’s for cat food, but then crossed the street to Hiram for a V8. George only sold regular tomato juice until they caught on and started carrying V8 themselves.

Then Hiram expanded their line of cat food, making either store an equally fine last minute choice. Certain things they proudly differ on. George carries only Pepsi products, Hiram only Coke.

They have both expanded their veggie choices, perhaps in response to the Asian deli.

The latest raised stakes have been deliveries and menus and business cards. Just recently I noticed George starting to allow tabs for his regulars.

How do they gather their information? Do they hold monthly meetings on how to one up the other? Do they have neighborhood informers? Or is it accidental? A customer mentions something that the other provide which they do not?

I know all three keep an eye on their patrons. If I enter one deli with a bag from the other, they will view it with suspicion. If one of the stock guys is out on a corner on a smoke break and sees me entering the opposing store, he gives me a severe nod as if I’d betrayed him.

A few of my neighbors and I have snickered over the feud, but what about the rest? Are there some who are furiously loyal and won’t go to the others, or are they like I used to be: pragmatic, a deli whore who goes to the one I know has the product I want, or whichever one is closer at the time.

Choosing a side may be inevitable though, a human impulse, even when allegiance isn’t always in our best interest. Though I love the Korean deli for its Asian stocked goods, my loyalty lies with Hiram, who doubles as a door man, taking in large packages that are delivered (if you leave a note to the mailman and ask the afternoon worker nicely), or holding items that someone needs to pick up.

And recently, while I was recovering from a leg injury, one of Hiram’s stock boys walked around the store with me, solemnly carrying my groceries and offered to carry them home for me. In a city as unruly and guarded as New York can sometimes be, it felt good to be treated as a wounded veteran, a fellow soldier, a friend.

Lounging on the couch, we flipped back and forth between the Barbara Walters and Joan Rivers shows. Barbara had her mini in-depth interviews with Tom Cruise, Sarah Jessica Parker, and Halle Barry. We joked about whether Barbara could squeeze some tears out of any of them in only ten minutes. We wondered with sick fascination how Joan Rivers could criticize anyone’s outfit when she herself always looks freakish. Then I saw him. Thoth, dancing and spinning right there on the red carpet.

“Oh my God, it’s Thoth,” I said.

“Who?” Melissa said.

Thoth is my favorite street performer. He plays near the Angel of the Waters Fountain, in the tunnel by Bethesda Terrace. I discovered him a few summers ago while wandering through Central Park and had been captivated. Obviously of a racially mixed background, he had golden skin and an ageless body; his thin well-kept dreads held up an elaborate feathered headdress. He wore a gold loincloth, a red silk robe, and had on high-heeled sandals with bells. But what really got me, what made me stay and watch, was his voice, operatic and beautiful. As he sang, he played along on his violin and danced, swooping back and forth.

There are other regular Central Park street performers that I like, but Thoth has always been number one. I’ve dragged many people to see him, including my now ex-boyfriend. Hailing from a conservative suburb of Buffalo, and new-ish to the city, my boyfriend was fascinated by Thoth and told me he’d never seen anyone like him. After all, Thoth sings about being a spiritual hermaphrodite (though you have to visit his web site to figure that out). We called him the Singing Thong Man and visited him often.

The first time I took my boyfriend to see Thoth, it was a rainy fall Friday. Thoth was wearing a black leotard under his usual get-up. His singing seemed to fit perfectly with the light rain and the smell of wet leaves. Later, we listened to him explain to another couple the meaning of all the items in the portable alter he had set up in front of his performance area. Even his speaking voice was calming.

To see him on TV, dancing down the red carpet, was kind of shocking. It felt like someone had opened the door on me while I was dressing. What was Thoth doing at the Oscars?

Of course, had I been an Oscar buff and done my reading, I would have known that Thoth had been nominated. Not Thoth himself, but Sarah Kernochan, in the Documentary Short Subject category, for the film she made about him. I didn’t figure this out, though, until the movie actually won. Sarah Kernochan and Thoth himself ambled onto the stage to pick up that little golden statue. I cheered loudly from the couch. Thoth had won an Oscar! I was happy for him, though I instantly feared I’d have to share him with more and more people this summer. And in a moment of goodwill, I hoped that my ex was watching, and that he remembered the sweetness of that Friday, and the beautiful song that Thoth had sung and that we had loved.