Frustrated, fed up, and through with feeling vincible--I acted on the first impulse that came: go to the City. Having just picked up my paycheck when the impulse hit, I looked at it as though it was the Holy Grail. The next thing I knew was on a bus heading south. Since I was originally only venturing out for twenty minutes, I had on no coat and no socks, and had no extra clothing with me whatsoever. I was freezing but happy, and if there is a word for being more than happy, I was that. I was as giddy as a schoolgirl who just got her first kiss. And that was only the first twenty minutes of my adventure.
Not being completely reckless, I called a few friends to see if they could put me up for a day or two. Finding refuge at NYU, I ventured out into the Village. I was hyper-aware and everything just seemed to pop. Still giddy and feeling as though I should commemorate this moment of invincibility in some permanent fashion, I meandered down to St. Mark's Place. Having at least seven tattoo and piercing parlours to choose from, I chose Andromeda. Being the snarky wise-ass I am, I quickly befriended the owner, Joe, who not only tattooed me for a reasonable amount of money, but also touched up an old tattoo free of charge. With his card, a promise to look him up when I am down again, and quite possibly a job when I move, I left. Feeling fine and divine, I slept like a baby that night.
I awoke before everyone else that morning, and watched the buildings turn from black to blue to pink to orange and to yellow, before finally fading into their own rustic colours. I didn't know how the day would unfold and I didn't care. Saying, adieu to my friends and her roomies, I ventured into the big City once again. Taking refuge in Grand Central, I bought a notebook and began to people watch. Snapping pictures and coming up with stories for them, from Henri, the f.o.b. frenchman who was dumped by his fiancee a week after moving to the City; to Lydell, the balding 40-something conductor, who buys the New York Times everyday but never reads it; to Cherry, the 19 year old photography major who hates photography. I filled twenty pages with the fictional lives of strangers. Exhausted, Saved with the help of a lovely Korean woman, and with no place to lay my head that night, I made the much unanticipated trip back to Port Authority, back home. Thirty hours later, my romp in the City was over, much to the relief of several friends, family members, and co-workers who had given me up for dead. New York, New York...
The Who -- Leaving Here
Bob Dylan -- You're Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go
David Bowie -- Fantastic Voyage
Social Distortion -- I Wasn't Born To Follow
Journey -- Don't Stop Believing
Elvis Costello -- Let's Misbehave
Lou Reed -- Ecstasy
Eels -- Dusk: A Peach in the Orchard
The Who -- Tattoo
Regina Spektor -- Summer in the City
Nada Surf -- Paper Boats
Cat Stevens -- Blue Monday
Frank Sinatra -- The Best Is Yet To Come
The Muppet Babies -- Wishes Have a Way of Coming True
NOTE: I almost bought Shutter Shades. I haggled the vendor down to $10 from a $40 price tag, but had to walk away when all he had were orange ones. Blast!
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