| I can leave work at five o'clock, if I want. But
I was cold this morning, and tired, and hungry,
so I didn't pack my gym stuff. And it's early now,
too damn early to head back to Brooklyn and call
it a night. Because I know myself. And once I get
into my apartment, the dreariness overwhelms me.
I change into cozy sweats, I eat a supper of some
sort, I read, eat some more crap, climb back into bed,
read, eat, re-cycle until I fall asleep. And that's too
fucking depressing for me today, I need to move.
I am full of excess energy and I need to feel
something. I stuff a metrocard, some crumpled paper
money, my keys into my pocket. As usual, I have no specific
destination, no plan. I take the train to midtown
this time, instead of my usual, 96th Street. I set
off, heading southeast from Times Square. I flow down
Broadway, from 42nd to Union Sq. Stop into the
Virgin Megastore, pick up a Rent cd. Cut across
towards 4th avenue. I keep moving, not slowing
nor swerving. I steady pace, and it's been 1/2 hour,
45 minutes, I forget, I never knew, I don't give a shit.
It's cold, and I shouldn't have left my sweater at the
office, but I'm glowing inside with exertion, and the
thoughts bouncing in the cavern of my mind are enough
to keep my mind off my red nose. I take 4th ave to 8th
street, I think it is, veer east again, heading south
on 2nd Ave. I reach Houston, I think it is, I
don't even know, but it looks vaguely familiar from
one of our noder gatherings. Ah, yes! I stream
down Rivington, glance sideways at yossarian's
apartment.
Someone I know lives there, somewhere,
wherever.
Another life and I might have stopped.
Tonight I keep moving. I find myself at
Essex Street, and realize without full geographic
comprehension that the train I need
is further west. So I turn right on Essex, head
across the dark city again. It occurs to me that I
may, in fact, be in an unsafe area. Eh, I can't tolerate
taking a train to a train to a train now, if I could
keep moving in this night, breathing. My meandering
(if my brisk, flowing pace can indeed be called
meandering on the sole basis of my lack of direction)
takes me to Canal St, through Chinatown, where
I've never been to before. I eventually reach Broadway
again, where I break into a long, loping stride, I
run the last 20 odd streets and hop on the train at
Fulton. Next time I'll start at Central Park, I think. And I'll stick to the East Side all the way. Or
Broadway. Maybe that. One day I'm going to piece my usual
pilgrimages: Wall St up to Houston, Union Sq to Lincoln Sq, Times Sq to 96th street...
Next time I'll start in Battery Park, I think.
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