Against the Light

In New York they walk against the light.
There'll be no delay of our daily pursuits
No insincere righteousness to fix us
to someone else's worn, bitter road.

Why should we walk when our goal is flight?
Why should we stop?
For a little thing like danger?
A little thing like fear?
A litle thing like failure?

For a little thing like the loss of life?
Which, until we stand to lose it
we have no idea of its true value.
And what would a life spent be worth
having never walked against the light?

[5:40 PM, watching the sun set from 5th floor window at Filene's Basement across from Columbus Circle. Also inspired by waiting at interections, holding Merri's hand, and wondering....]

Missing Mojo

I only JUST realized why my messenger bag was so light this morning.  I didn't have time to worry about it at the time.  I didn't have time to pack my laptop before leaving the house this morning, nor did I have time to root around for my cell phone or my wallet.  Yeah, its that kind of morning.  But just now, when I decided my time would best be used getting out more of 'Against the Light' as everyone's been requesting, I suddenly got a mental flashback of a cold-as-hell saturday morning spent in my mom's bedroom (the one with the TV) and getting up only to take both my journals out of my bag and scattering them on the bed throughout the day.

I also played the harmonica a bit.  Only I can't get the blues out of that thing for the life of me. 

So now, faithful reader, I'm afraid I'll have to subject you to an unrehearsed completely impromptu blog, complete with interruptions and train of thought derailments.  This sentence was an example of both.

I payed for my CUNY applications finally.  It feels like a huge accomplishment.  Or maybe I should say it SHOULD feel like a huge accomplishment.  I have no reason  to believe I won't get in there.  And school in New York would be...amazing.  I'd get to try a thing or two at the Bowery as well, assuming I don't pussy out again.  The prospects are exciting.  The same goes for Trinidad (because yes, after hearing about a $20 egg and toast breakfast in Barbados, I've settled on Trinidad.) and the Lyric Lounge.  I just...can't seem to summon the excitement.  Perhaps I won't feel it until it actually happens. 

There's also that other fear.  What if I never feel it again?  What if I've lost my passion and all that I have now is my current dissatisfaction and mere want?

Yeah, I've completely lost the train of thought now.  I do know one thing.  My love life (And being with the love of my life) hinges on me doing SOMETHING with my talent.  And that includes sharpening and keeping it honed.  So I'll write.  And I'll make a move.  And I refuse to get stuck here.  That's enough of a passion, I think.

The strong give up and move away.
The weak give up and stay.

Day 2 - Chasing our tail

Traveling today was smooth, and got smoother as the day progressed. I think its because of our visit to Grand Central Station, our first for this trip, and therefore our first opportunity to pay propper homage to the statue of the messenger god that sits atop it. I think we got lost all of...once. And that was on foot, following instruction provided by the same service that would advise those from San Francisco who wanted directions to Honolulu to rent a canoe and roe for the final leg of the trip. (Its true. I checked. You should too.)

But then Hermes came along, dressed in the skin of a brown skinned, power-walking woman with an odd accent. (Greek, perhaps?) She pointed us in the right direction and then off she went, strutting her way up the steepest hill I'd ever seen and even pointing the direction we should go next while we struggled a couple dozen yards behind. Good 'ol Hermes. Lucky Hermes. It's not her fault afterall. She didn't know we were travelling toward disappointment. Greek gods are enither omniscient nor omnipotent. They've got very specific fields. I'm not sure who is in charge of assanine policy like "You recieved your first immunization shot ten days before your first birthday, therefore it does not count, therefore you may not register right now." But I'm pretty sure it's not Hermes.

But yeah, travelling was good, even if we spent a whole day getting nothing done.

Day 1 - Travel

Survived Cancun, despite personal anxiety. Despite being turned back at the border so Erica could use the right passport. Despite getting on to the most obnoxious bus ever created from Belize City to the border, and then having that bus abandon us on the Belize side of the border.

Thank goodness for travel mates. Erica and I noticed a guy on the bus with two bags big enough to smuggle an adult. From the look of the guy struggling with the weight, he might have had two adults in there afterall. We heard him ask the conductor if we would be crossing the border, and later he asked another passenger if he knew how long it took to get to Cancun by bus. During the grueling five hour trip in an uncomfortable bus with intollerably loud music (And a drunk that decided to join us the last fifty or so miles to the border), he was cheerfully chattering away the time with another passenger, and doing so with impressive confidence, even though his Creole accent made an otherwise elegant language sound like tumbling rocks.

As ut tyrbed iyt ge was a Belizean studying Electrical Engineering in Cuba. Not only was he flying back from Cancun the next morning, just like we were, it turns out he was from our old neihborhood to boot. His company, assistance, and quick translations made our trip immeasurably more tolerable. That guy is a lifesaver.

I just wish I could remember his name.

***

I don't remember the flight from Houston to Laguardia. I remember someone nudging me, and I mumbled 'orange juice' to that person. I remember drinking my orange juice. I remember landing.

So we're here! Getting to the hostel was a bit bumpier than I had planned. The problem was Lennox Avenue and Lexington Avenue look too similar when reading through the smeared window of the third bus you've been on in 24 hours without a shower. Too bad they're about five or six blocks apart. So much for cutting down on the walking time.

I miss Merri. This place isn't the same without her. I was afraid of that.

New York in summer. I was dripping sweat by the time we got to the subway, and the train kicked up a hot smelly breeze redulant of childhood memories. I'll try to make the best of it.