Yesterday, I traced a wide circle across the map of New York City with my body. Reading My Name is Red, I rode out to Flushing, where, from the subway, I could see the remnants of the 1964 World's Fair, something I have seen countless images of and, as a result, romanticized in my head as this decaying vision of the future through 1964's eyes, a more derelict Epcot. Seeing the Unisphere and the observatory towers, seeing them peeking out between the beginnings of fall, these iconic structures and trees of red and yellow shading them, my train in motion passing them, all of this stirred something inside me. I wasn't and am still not sure what that thing is, but I noted to myself, mentally, that I needed to finally get around to visiting this place, not today, meaning not yesterday of course, because I was on my way to the airport, already running late, in the hopes of meeting David and Toby while they had their brief layover.
Once I got off at the end of the 7 line, I waited for the Q48 bus among all these Asian scripts and all these amazing looking restaurants, stores, signage. The wind was blowing really hard and I thought about coffee, something I think about a lot, and whether I could find a cup somewhere without missing the bus that seemed like it was about to arrive any moment. I decided against it, tighetend my scarve against the wind and thought about various things, among them how earlier in the day, too early - this day already seemed to consume too much - I had gotten a blowjob from the guy uptown, and whose breath smelled pretty noxious. I thought about that breath, and then the cold, as it always does, began to brush away those thoughts, all thoughts, and all I could think about was how cold I was and how I wanted the bus to arrive.
At some point it finally did, and my journey around this city continued, now on a bus ride to LaGuardia. I met up with David and Toby and it was very nice to see them, though I fear that I was a little exhausted from riding on public transportation for so long, but there would be more and I chatted on and off with them as we rode a bus to Harlem, crossing rivers and buildings beautiful in their ugliness, where we caught another train and then another to JFK. And I said bye to them at JFK, giving them hugs, and I went back down to wait for a train back home, feeling the wind, but more so feeling the breif bodily contact I just had with David, a warmness in those spots glowing outward, fighting the cold wind pretty well, that and the wait wasn't too long before I was headed back home.
I read and didn't read the book on the train ride home, instead losing myself in thoughts of everything.
Laundry was done, tea was drank, Marie Antoinette was watched, which deserves some writing here also, because it, along with these other things, along with my landlord, along with now working at the Princeton Review and my schedule, along with all the things happening this week, all of that on my mind this morning as I took a hot, leisurely shower, as I drink this coffee now, as I write here before throwing on some clothes quickly before leaving for work in a few short, too short, minutes.
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