i saw the world and myself in it differently then. not sure why. something of a visitation. like i knew everything had a short shelf-life, and therefore my need to observe, examine, reflect, document - all heightened. things seemed more...precious? borrowed? whatever it was, returning to whence i came extinguished all that. the impetus to drink it all and lick the bowl clean gone, now just existing in a place trying to do/have something, independent of time and the idea of special privilege.
but!
goodness i love the world right after the rain! any type of world- town, country, times square. the just-washed clean mingling with an all-over shine, while every living thing skips and hops now that the sky has stopped pouring all over it. lights bright, sounds sharp - like the peeling of car tires off the roadway as they pass. we walked across the avenue, all of it a new beginning - work behind us, but our night ahead, different clothes, different roles, and more people to come meet us. sometimes i like the meatpacking district at night, when cars move slow and people flow around them like blood vessels and lights all shine down at your level. the scale is human, and if it is dirty it’s somehow dirty in a pleasant way. surfaces are fresh, and intriguing. cobbles here, torn pavement here, brick, iron, angles, lines. mostly the district sucks and we’re trying to figure out what direction to leave it in, but aesthetically it’s got appeal.
but so we walked, leaving meatpacking behind us, and entered the downstairs bar with all day 2-for-1 drinks. all day. and not just well drinks. a guy could get lost in a place that gives you a free plymouth every time you ask for one. in fact, during the day, i’ve seen it with a few of those lost ones. its a vignette of timelessness. hopelessness without being too sad. lynyrd skynyrd and little red straws. but at night the gusto is back, and the party is on. and the ladies behind the bar know how to keep it upbeat. we sat at the end, three stools for three fools and drinks to match, plus ones in hand. just now the conversation escapes me, until the bartender came over to fill my water and made a joke about race and we all laughed heartily and talked about white and black freely and full of laughter. ungradually i realized that i’d had plenty to drink and that others were most likely not coming to join us in 2-for-1 heaven. at that point the only option is doffing the cap and bowing out, and going home to eat all the cheese in the fridge. i still have that free drink coin though. and i feel like drinking it all, and licking the bowl clean.
