There it is, a great big world which is right outside of our door. This is alive and well, even if we don’t choose to see it.
I think, of course, and wonder of places such as certain cities, like say, places that I’ve only seen in pictures, like San Francisco or maybe Wyoming or even Alaska.
Or then again, my pilgrimage to anywhere could begin from anywhere; in which case, I have this urge to board a train and ride the railroads that span across our country. This way, I can see it all.
The morning was like a brief interlude after a night out with friends. As usual, I was up early because I’ve always had trouble sleeping on floors. Let alone, I never slept much anyway, least of all, as late as the rest of my friends who were sleeping it off the night before. No one else was awake in the small apartment, except for Pete. We were both sleeping on the floor because Steve already took the couch and the beds were all taken. Besides, this was not our apartment.
It is another morning in August, the ninth, I believe.
Well, here I am world.
Here we are in the northern hemisphere, rounding the orbit where Earth begins to tilt away from the sun. The hours of sunlight will become shorter and soon enough the winds will become cooler and even sooner, this year will become last and next year will be another spin around the sun.
I was thinking about the childish games we play, like social chess or interpersonal checkers. I think it would be just as well if we admitted to all of this. Or, maybe it’s more fun if we went back to a simpler time – like say, maybe we can play a game of marbles – or maybe we can shoot for it or play rock, paper scissors or something like that.
I have an idea. Then again, let’s just call it that. It’s an idea and yet, the details to me are unrealistic at best. But either way, the idea is real and a bit more than one-dimensional.
I have been watching videos of flying lessons. To be clear, I’m not afraid to fly. At least not when I’m sitting in a seat on a flight out of places like JFK or LaGuardia or maybe even Newark, which is not a bad place as far as airports go.
It’s not a bad feeling to be in first class or business class when they pass by with a hot towel and pre-flight beverage of your choice.
I am somewhat of a person who thinks too often and thinks too deeply. And yet, maybe I am a person who doesn’t think too clearly or if I think at all, I often wonder if I think before I speak.
I am a real person in which I have a heart that beats. I have lungs that breathe and a mind that works – at least to some degree.
I am a son to the world. I am a connection to an extension of all that led up to this moment.
I am me; in which case, if I am to admit or if I am to claim anything – then let me start here.
Right now. Perhaps to you this may seem too vague or too abstract; to me, this is only a section of time and a moment of beauty. This is me enjoying a stream of words that flow so easily now because there are no distractions around us. No, it’s just me. And it’s just you.
To tell you the truth, I’m a fan of youth. I’m a fan of anything young and hopeful. In fact, it took me decades to be able to say this: I want this to be me. No matter how old I get, I still want to be the youthful version of myself which I hid away for a very long time.
To be clear, I think the biggest thefts of all are the thefts that steal away our youthfulness. I think the biggest bully of all is social conformity and the need to fit or the need to “grow up” so-to-speak and become so distant from our true selves.
I understand that with age comes responsibility. I understand that when I was a young person, I spoke like a young person and thought like a young person. I also understand that at some point, I put away my favorite toys to conform to the person who I thought I was supposed to be.
Do you remember your early 20’s? Or, maybe you’re in them now. Or, maybe not. Maybe your 20’s were not your glory years or maybe you’ve moved so far away that you forgot what this was like.
Do you remember the nights you went out with your friends? What about the wild nights?
Did you have them?
I had plenty of them.
I go back to them and sift through old memories of nostalgia, especially now when the summer is nearly over. I go back to these times when the summer is near the end and soon enough, September rolls around and the summer is gone.
(Just like that!)
I think about the nights on the water and the places we gathered. I think about the songs which seemed to intentionally play at the same time every night. This meant things were about to get going. This meant the night was about to get hot and pick up speed, which it did.
I love this place.
I love the beach in wintertime, empty and quiet, and yet remnants of all the memories with indentations of summertime footsteps which never fade. Like our memories for example.
Like the times when the sun was hot and the waves were cool and the beach was lined with countless bodies, laying beneath the sun, tanning, and feeling the warmth of summer.
Perhaps this is why I love the beach during the winter months when nobody comes. Maybe this is why the sands exist, to absorb our footsteps and when the beach is empty, the sands absorb our footsteps when we walk to the water’s edge; to tell our secrets to the tide, to feel, to rid ourselves of our sorry confessions, or to release us from our moments of doubt.
Ah, New York, New York. It’s true. It’s a hell of a town.
This place has seen me through it all. And I’ve seen her as well. I’ve seen everything here from live shows to small events and from little venues at small clubs to rooftop heights; and of course, I have seen the romance of the Hudson River at night.
I’ve been Downtown where the scene is different and the vibe is real. I have walked alongside the river during late nights, alone but I was not lonely. Or at least I can say that I was not lonesome at all; but more so, I was reflecting, thinking about my life as it is or was or as it should be.
There was an evening in the autumn months which I remember specifically and for no other reason than the color of the sky, which was beautiful and I, well . . .
I was listening to a song called Us and Them by a band called The Pink Floyd.
I remember this more as a moment of reprieve. To be honest, this was a moment of truce or a temporary stay of execution.
There was nothing about being right or wrong. There was no thinking about the crowds or my status with anyone or anything.