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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One reason I like New Yorkers
September 26, 2007, 8:20 pm
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I was biking across the Williamsburg Bridge tonight, coming back from my new daily-ground life up in Manhattan and I was busting ass. Most of the time I haul my laptop around plus a book, water, my lock, some clothes, food and whatnot and I move into a higher gear to make the long incline a bit easier- especially on my way back from the big A because there probably were a couple near-death experiences that kinda got the old blood flowing and now I’m crashing from over-stimulation and coffee.

But in any case tonight, maybe it was the coffee or maybe it was just the sense of post-work freedom, I was in one of my lower gears and I was sailing past all the fixies, charging up the bridge. I get whims like this- bursts of energy, invulnerability, invincibleness, what-have-you, and it feels nice to expend my energy while I ride my bike. I guess it’s like running really really hard on a hamster wheel.

In most places I have lived I cycle up a steep hill with all my might and men whistle or cat-call “damn girl”or “can I get a ride?”- hoping I might just pull to the side so they can swoop me off my feet with their love-skills. Other times people just look at me like I’m a quack.

As I cycled up the bridge tonight, leaning hard on my handle-bars, breathing rhythmically, feeling triumphant and just a little quackish, I passed others coming up towards me biking just as furiously and with just as much passion, if not more. It was an army of passionate people, unafraid of over-stimulation and pushing themselves harder just for the sake of it. Maybe I’m romanticizing it but it feels good to be surrounded by strangers who give a shit about their lives and who aren’t settling for boredom.