And not in a romanticized way. Because that is the only version of it I can know, that lackluster lady as painted by artists of varying disciplines and mediums. This foreign city seems familiar only on the outside, it's thoughts and rhythms dancing along some undercurrent. I can't help myself from falling in love with it. A masked stranger, mysterious. A reclining goddess, dazzling.
I hadn't mean to go tonight. I had meant to wander around Central Park, solo. I figured that as the extent of my realistic possibility. To go down to 42nd alone seemed folly. I just haven't the balls. But as I got up to go out to 5th ave, my father sent Dayanis after me, telling her to take me down to the city. So a short bus trip followed up by a jaunt on the train brings us to the flashy center of the madness with no real objective. So we wandered around, hitting Times Square, Rockefeller, walking down Broadway. It was hella cold and for some reason, more crowded than usual. We speculated that it may be due to the crazy post-Christmas sales (more silver lining in a downspiraling economy.) I'll admit that in the beginning I was irate and distant. My first impression of Dayanis (as with Lindsay, her bff) had been terrible, and beside this idea of her apparent immaturity, I knew nothing about her. It wasn't until we stopped for a late lunch and started chatting for a bit did this image of her die and I managed to warm up to her (as I warmed up my frozen fingers!)
She graduated from Nova in 06. I hadn't known that! Craziness. I ran some names by her but the only one she knew was Geoff. Nobody forgets Geoff! (I AM SMELLIN' LIKE A ROSE...) And teachers of course.She told me about how her class t-shirts were terrible, and someone on her physics class said they were gay, at which point Mr.Roy snapped back "If they were gay, they'd have some sense of style!" She told be about how her friends slashed Mr.Almanzar's tires after they graduated. I cackled. Chat digressed into her current life. She moved to Brookyln to live with her then boyfriend, now fiancee. She is 20! He's 32 and already once divorced. I can't even imagine being engaged within a year. Pure craziness. But she's lonely to an extent now because she left her friends behind, and he works late a good many nights. But love is love, I guess.
Talking to her also made me nervous, because it got me thinking more about my relationship. I'm having a hard time not laying down a future, painting a picture like I've had a tendency to do in the past. As much anxiety as I face when I have to make decisions largely affecting my path, I love to design the skeletal portions of my eventuality so it can be fleshed out in a satisfying way. But I learned how dangerous that is the hard way. So I'm trying to think more like my age. Enjoy the present, let the future figure itself out.
In the city, I don't need or want for a destination, though she kept asking me where I wanted to go. I don't. I just like being there. I like watching the people. I like feeling dwarfed. Plus actually doing anything in the city beside walking its gritty blocks or breathing its tangy air costs mucho dinero. For the first time I'm here on my own dime, so nothankyou I am happy just to walk.
Many of the people were very well dressed. At first I felt a bit embarassed about the lack of effort put into my presentation (some of the women were real bombshells!) but I soon realized that this gave me the incredible power of invisibility. Resentment soon yielded to comfort. I found myself nearly driven mad by a resurging desire to capture these interesting people in sketches or photos, from the dangerously beautiful to the most fantastically lined and chizeled countenances. Especially on the subway. Blacks and browns were enormously popular in winter attire. Those in black only stood out when their gaits were poignant or their beauty near perfect. Creme adorned women were few and breathtaking. And I don't care what anyone says, yes, pink stands out, but by Jove! It is so atrocious.
Allow me to add that women wearing tights in this weather are fucking nuts. I don't understand how one can sacrifice comfort to such an extreme extent to look good. If I were a guy, though those chickadees look damn good, it'd be more of a warning sign: Do not take this woman seriously! Madonna mia.
I really hope to one day be able to wander the city with some of you tykes. For some reason, Coby stands out in my mind as a great companion for such vagrancy. I wish Robob and I had been allowed to do our own thing when we were here two years ago.
I'd like to live here, though only briefly. Just long enough to grow from it. Long enough to shed some anxieties, become more ensteeled. Long enough to knows all the train and bus routes. Maybe I could work in the financial district for a while... Learn the loops then cash out before I become soulless.
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Back at the hospital, it is very quiet. Diyanis left. My dad and I watch Wheel of Fortune while I try to figure if I've left out any major sentiments in this brief(?) retelling. I am terrible at Wheel of Fortune. I wish Jeopardy was on instead. He is very quiet, the medication has made him sleepy.
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