bleeps & bloops


Eggzausted

moon1.jpg
I have stopped writing because I work too much. I am now officially brain-dead. Even my inner social commentary has just gone kaput. When I see something entertaining I don’t even shoot sly remarks at things in my head anymore. There’s no more “remember that for later” or “when I’m finally free I’ll….” Nope. It’s just trudging forward through lack of sleep and interest in life these days.

I’m giving the 9-5 a go again, or rather, the 9-6. And I think it isn’t for me, again. No Sir. Surprise. My joy in life has just turned to a sludge similar to what you might find in the drain when there’s a lot of hair and soap residue built up down there. Not a pretty sight. Especially when the water gets all scummy and won’t go away like the people, interests, bills and all the clothes on my floor that are just waiting for me to care.

I’m tired of it. I miss art’s constant magnetism, freaking out listening to music, feeling a mystical religious experience every once and a while, the highs and lows. A natural Prozac substitute, this full-time work business. Maybe once you do it enough then you need the real stuff. Right now it’s just a mellow lack of feeling. Well, a lack of all feeling except frustration.

I plan for it to be over relatively soon with a drop to part-time-ish work, but damn, New York City is a hard place to live in and actually have a creative moment. When I get home I barely have the energy to make dinner.

I’m lucky if I get home by 8pm, so I generally rush along and just bike the 6 miles from Chelsea to Brooklyn with my eyes scanning the horizon and potholes, not stopping until I flop on the couch in my room. Occasionally I get a wild hair up my ass and actually look around me and then I remember why I actually live here.

Like tonight. I saw some things that made me glad. And that was a feeling I had missed for a while. Biking along 20th St towards the Lower East Side I got behind a man on a bike with one of those little add-on back bikes where a little blond girl was perched, peddling along behind her Dad, probably contributing more to fun than peddle power. She was maybe 6 years old. My immediate reaction was shock especially when he barely slipped in between two taxis. Peddling behind them, I envisioned the little girl getting quickly crushed. The Dad navigated along the bike lane until they came upon the NY cyclist’s favorite obstacle- a taxi in the lane. (They should seriously be called taxi or delivery lanes, why lie.) He biked up to the driver’s window and asked him rather nicely to get out of the bike lane. The taxi obliged and slowly pulled out of the way. As they biked by the little girl turned and yelled “get out of the bike lane!” in her squeaky high voice with true conviction. I was so impressed.

On my way up the bridge, I passed a girl weaving her way up the bridge in an “8” formation, going up the bridge circling back and forth horizontally, slowing ascending and smiling to herself. This is quite a difficult way to go up a bridge, but noble none the less.

And then lastly I stopped at the top of the bridge on the Brooklyn side to remove my hoodie as I had worked up quite a sweat by that point and I finally took a breath and looked around me. The city was absolutely perfect- everything had this bright aura around it because of the humidity and the moon hung like a sliver above the skyscrapers. I heard some noise and looked down onto the street far below, close to the giant SCREWRENT graffiti that I love so.

There were some kids skateboarding off a concrete barricade. They had taken some more concrete and smoothed out a spot where the barricade touched the asphalt to create a better ramp. They were having a blast jumping off the thing.

A friend I really like is coming to visit soon. I envision dancing at Weird, playing music together and visits to the Natural Science Museum among other fun things. Having guests helps me take time to enjoy the city again and refreshed my memory of who I want to be.

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6 Comments so far
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Larky!
this is the first i’ve seen your site. this posting makes me sad. don’t get your innards eaten alive or turned into drain sludge up there. god knows we pull enough of that shit out of the shower drains here at elam. ’tis a poor substitute for a digestive tract or emotions. we should take a trip to the wintery woods when i come up there in january so as to dispell some of our mutual brain funk.

Comment by fuzzhead

I have stopped writing because I work too much. I am now officially brain-dead. Even my inner social commentary has just gone kaput. When I see something entertaining I don’t even shoot sly remarks at things in my head anymore.

Wow, I totally get that. I’ve given up writing, too, for about the same reason. Too much work.

I miss art’s constant magnetism, freaking out listening to music, feeling a mystical religious experience every once and a while, the highs and lows.

Me too! And, in my opinion, life is all about those highs and those lows. Without them, what’s the point?

Comment by Lawrence Krubner

The taxi obliged and slowly pulled out of the way. As they biked by the little girl turned and yelled “get out of the bike lane!” in her squeaky high voice with true conviction. I was so impressed.

What a great story!

Comment by Lawrence Krubner

Oh Larky! Keep the art alive! Be free! Don’t let the devil take your soul!

Comment by carrot

Larky-poo
there is so much going on in your stories and descriptions of what is going on around you and i can’t help but feel this huge gap between the scenes you describe and you and your bicycle peering in from your vantage point. It made me feel a little dizzy, even though you described it very calmly. all of that is to say that you feel far away and i wish i could give you a hug.

Comment by ricky

And hurray for that little girl and the Dad and telling taxis in the bike lane to fuck off. Nice site, by the way. And hi, by the way. 🙂 I hope there’s less job-soul-sucking and more I-feel-glads these days.

Comment by click




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