I will call this a “Thing” because
there are so many more names to call it.
But either way, I have this “Thing” inside me.
I have this “Thing,” in me,
a voice perhaps, or a life, like a child
or a little kid that hides away.
I have always been amazed by my City.
I’ve gone through different phases and different circumstances in my life but ah, my City, She has always been good to me.
There have been nights when I took to a rooftop of a building and stood high above the streets and the hustle of the cabs. I looked out at the scene. I looked at the windows of apartment buildings and noticed the lamps in bedrooms and living rooms.
There has always been something interesting to me about the way a television could flicker in a room — the bluish light illuminates against the walls to give the window view a certain glow. The City is filled with millions of windows like this. And the truth is, I love every single one of them.
There are early mornings, like today, for example, I was driving down the Westside Highway alongside the Hudson River before the sunrise. The moon was out. The buildings on the Manhattan side appeared to be resting for the moment. Across the river is New Jersey, who is a friend to me now, although, this wasn’t always the case. The Hudson River moves like a black sheet of glass; the lights from the stagnant ships and barges reflect across the river’s surface. This was my view this morning. Otherwise, the highway was empty because the rest of the world was sleeping.
Well, here we are again. It is 6:00 in the morning and the sun hasn’t shown up yet. I can hear the rain falling on my roof, which is good because I have quiet music playing in the background.
I like it this way because it seems the depth of sound allows me a little window to look from with a better view of my own introspection.
Out of anything I hear most, I often hear people comment, “So you like to write books?” which is something that always follows with the same idea.
“I should tell you my story,” and then people say things like, “I guarantee you it’ll be a bestseller!”
I’m sure it will be. The truth is we all have a story. Each and every one of us has a story to tell; whether dull or wild, unbelievable or uninteresting, we all have a story.
There is nothing quite like a moment alone when no one else is around and there’s no one else to answer to. The house or apartment is otherwise empty and the music you play is not open for discussion or interruption.
The weather outside is unobjectionable and fine but more to the point; nothing is imposing, and for the moment, the only thing pressing is the moment we’ve chosen for self-care and personal preservation.
I was thinking of a song last night. I thought about the intro of a bluesy riff that began with the words, “I am an old woman named after my mother. My old man was another child that’s grown old.”
Then I thought about the next line which is, “If dreams were thunder, lightning was desire, this old house would have burned down a long time ago.”
I have never been sure what happens to time. I only know that it moves fast when you wish things could slow down. I know that it was just yesterday that I was so much younger. The world was a different place to me. The City was like a romance novel with wild, unexpected turns. There was action and suspense. There was drama and tragedy, comedy, thrillers and times when Central Park held a different sense of dignity to me.
Understand something . . .
There is nothing wrong with self preservation. Love is love but sometimes the best way to love someone is to understand that staying away is the best idea.
Make no mistake that life and love will not come with casualties. We all go through our moments of separation. We all experience the divides in relationships and we all have someone that we are not supposed to be divided from, but yet, we are.
There is a lengthy argument that comes with the idea of trade workers and white collar positions, in which social snobbery takes hold. Then we somehow give into the social programming that separates us in levels of importance due to financial earnings. Meanwhile, none of this is actually true. We’re all small, little beings, running around on a big ball we know as Project Earth.
There’s not much left of what used to be.
I mean, think about it another way. Today is Monday. We have gone through countless Mondays before but this one is exceptionally different.
As a matter of fact, let’s see . . .
I have been alive for 17,456 days which means this Monday will be my 2,493rd Monday on Project Earth. This means I have taken approximately 376 million breaths since then and walked somewhere close to 254 million steps, which means I’ve traveled 108,204 miles, which means I’ve walked around the world to an estimated equivalent of 43 times.