January 2008

Published: 2008.29.January DREAM

Norwood

We were in the living-room, having drinks. The night was well along, the conversation was happy and of no remarkable nature. Bradshaw left the flat to go up to the roof. I remained behind to catch up with tidying so we could get to bed at some fairly reasonable point that night.

When time had passed and B. hadn’t returned, I headed up the stairs to the roof. The night was perfectly clear, warm. Stars were visible over-head. A perfect Summer night, especially on the roof. Perhaps B. had been taken-in and carried away by the atmosphere and the view or perhaps he’d been waiting for a little “rendez-vous”, a little frolic on the tar paper, a bit of love-making under the stars. How wonderful! How exciting! How romantic! How welcome that would be!

As the doors to the stairs closed behind me, I heard muffled voices coming from round on the other side of the stair-well enclosure. Both male. One whispered: “He’s HERE! What now?!” The other replied “Shshshshsh. Just be quiet and he won’t know.” Both giggled in a stage whisper and the air went completely still and silent again. It would have been unremarkable had I not recognized the voice of the responder… it was B.! Was he playing a game? Planning a surprise? My heart raced with anticipation as I silently crept round the corner, ready to grab him in a passionate and sensual embrace, ready to bring him down gently on the warm tarpapered roof and there, in the night, in the open, as the last planes leaving LaGuardia airport soared quietly over us through the black-blue of the endless heavens above, there to make unrestrained love to and with him.

I stepped round the corner… I was ready for all, ready for anything… except:

There, against the wall of the stair-well housing, stood a man, 10 years my junior, shirtless, his jeans pulled down to his ankles. He turned only his head to me and after an initial brief wave of chock or simple surprise, his eyes twinkled like those of a child who had just unwrapped a long-awaited-for gift to find exactly what he had been wanting for quite some time. His face almost glowed with a knowing sort of smile and suddenly, his visage became serious, his eyes rolled up, his head tossed back and his mouth opened wide as if to inhale all the starts in the night sky above us. His hands were on B.’s shoulders. B. was on his knees, face buried deep into the man’s groin. The stranger gave a guttural moan as he thrust his hips forward and B.’s face all but disappeared between the contracting thighs.

“What the fuck?” was all that would come out of mouth.

B. stood, looked at me directly in the eyes. There was about 30 metres between us but even at that distance, in the night on the roof, I could see a boyish appearance on his face, as if he’d only been caught swiping a cookie just before dinner. The matter wasn’t at all serious to him.

“It isn’t what you think.” He said, with only the very slightest trace of nervousness in his voice. “It isn’t the way it looks.” He tacked-on to his statement in a tone that sounded more like an attempt to negate any wrong-doing and therefore relinquishing him from any guilt. He began walking toward me, his eyes focused directly into my pupils, his face projecting a look like that of someone seeing a long-awaited beau on a Summer’s day in the park… alone. He walked slowly, softly but determinedly toward me, his arms open for an embrace. I stood, frozen, for the moment, my mind shutting-down into a non-function from the strain of trying to believe, understand, comprehend and assimilate what I’d just witnessed and the macabre act that was following… and of which I was now a part.

“Aw, c’mon Jud. Don’t be like this. It didn’t mean anything. Really. I don’t’ love him. Shit! I don’t’ know his name! I don’t’ WANT to know his name. C’mon…”. He continued toward me as behind him, the young stranger hastily retreated, heading for the door to a stair-way well out of sight.

“DON’T!” I shot the word as forcibly as I could, from my gut, stifling it only just enough to keep it from projecting outward as a scream. “DON’T come near me! DON’T you DARE touch me! Just DON’T!” My mind finally shut down. Where once there were thoughts racing every which way, bouncing haphazardly against the inner aspects of my cranium, now, was only black. There was nothing, nothing, just… nothing. I stepped to my left to clear a way directly pat B. I didn’t know why. I had no thoughts at all. I only knew, some-where in my body, but not in my mind, that I could not be touched by him. Under no circumstances would nay part of his being make contact with any part of mine. I was disintegrating there, in the warm, Summer-night’s air. I was leaving, departing, from all form of matter, not to be dissolved into my surroundings, rather to dis-integrate in the truest fashion.

B.’s pace was still steady, remained almost thoughtful in it’s silence, and it was bringing him closer to me. “Don’t be like this…” he repeated softly, gently, romantically.

I bolted from my place of the roof, running openly at my full speed! My eyes focused directly and solely ahead at the shin-high brick wall that delineated the space that was the roof on which he and I were at this moment and the emptiness that existed beyond it, dropping six floors down to the pavement below. As I ran past B. a thought suddenly sparked in the blackness where my mind once existed: “I’m going over!””It rang in my skull. “I’m NOT going to stop at then end! NO! Not THIS time. There No MORE of this! No more! No again! I’m NOT going to stop!” My strides became longer, easier, graceful. I was bounding, almost weightlessly, toward the edge of the roof. At the little wall, I would take to the air…

(One bright morning, when this life is over, I will fly away… No more cold iron shackles on my fee, I will fly away.)

It was much easier than I’d expected. I didn’t miss a step, didn’t need to jump. It happened, completely with-out thought or effort, as if the little brick wall, at that one place in front of me just vanished so there’d be nothing in my way. I was on the roof running and I was suddenly floating toward the grey-black pavement below. I was floating, no falling. It was quiet magnificent, rally. The rush of air surrounding my entire body was soft, gentle, cooling, calming, relaxing. As it whooshed past my ears it drowned-out every sound save its own. It was splendid. The world and every bit of it was a delight. My body turned. I watched the sparkling pavement of E. 206th Street come nearer. The twinkle in the asphalt caught my attention and for the time, fascinated me. I watched it glitter below as I soared silently in bliss ever closer to it.

THUMP!

I arrived. In the middle of E.206th Street, mid-block between Bainbridge and Rochambeau Avenues, my Summer-night’s voyage from the roof-top terminated. My moments of flight, of sheer joy, of soaring thought the openness of air had come to an end. There’d been a thump as I contacted the street and a few soft crunches in the distance. Now, I lat there, at ease, unable to move anything that I once thought of as my body, that “me” that once inhabited some particular space in Creation. I had no desire to move, I had no want of motion of any sort. All was silent around me and I was , for the first time in the entire term of my memorable existence… at Peace. There was a moist warmth gathering at my right ear, coming, I perceived, from the back of my head. It felt like warm satin laid between my head and the harsh asphalt pavement.

“Oh, I’m bleeding here.” The thought formed silently in what remained of my mind. It wasn’t an exclamation, nor was it accompanied by any panic or anxiety. It was the manifestation of a simple fact: “Oh. I’m bleeding here.” And I immediately knew from whence the blood came. At the very same moment I was aware that was bleeding the very life from my “self”. I was at peace. My eyes were open. I knew that. I could still see the twinkling glitter amongst the deep grey-black of the asphalt. Now, at this time, it and I were on the same level. We were the same plane. That was all I could see, all that I wanted to see, all that I would acknowledge. The little twinkle-bits glistened like snow-flakes dancing, like a multitude of starts, and my blood, my life was leaving me to… where or what made no impression or matter to me at all.

“I’m dying. Oh. How delightful! How absolutely wonderful! I’m dying. At last. At long last! It really is great – not painful at all. As a matter of fact, it’s so peaceful. I should have done this so long ago. But at least tonight, right here, right now, I’m dying. And for the very first time in my existence… I’m completely content. Isn’t that funny? Isn’t that so typical. I’m content at last with only moments left to bask in its comfort. Oh well. Never mind. It’s not important now. Nothing’s important now – and nothing will be important… later… there isn’t a later… there isn’t… important… there’s.. here… there’s… now… Oops… nope… there… isn’t…”

All went silent. All went black. All ceased.

He never woke from that dream…

02.Wednesday: Back to work. It’s coming to the end. I don’t know what I’ll do for sanity when the job is done. Had to buy a new MetroCard today. A pay-per-ride for today. Will start a 30-day so it ends at the end of the month.

03.Thursday: Day at work. I walk into the flat. She’s lying on the sofa! She admits that she’s slept most of the day. I’m exhausted. I don’t get enough sleep anymore. Haven’t in years!

04. Friday: Out the door as usual. Library until 13h. Got some cash and out to Brighton for new shoes. That covered it. She was supposed to be gone to services this evening. I planned on cutting my hair and taking a nap. Screwed! I walked in, she was beached on the sofa. I left, took the bus to Lehman, got the wrong bus (28 instead of 26 which would have taken me across Bedford Park Blvd to Mike’s Pizza) and ended-up at Kingsbridge and Jerome. Walked to The Concourse, D to 205th. TWO slices white pizza and a can cream soda at Nicky’s! DEEELISH! 7dollars! – Walked up to 206th for the bus back. Got on and had to really $#!^. Got off at Bedford Park, ran into the BP Cafe just in time! Back on the bus and to the flat. Watched Brits until 23h. News. Sleep. *NOTE: On the bus to Nicky’s my brain shorted out and I thought I could get the pizza and take it upstairs to the flat at 3150!

3 January

4 January

deadartist Says:
January 5, 2008 at 12:40 pm e DREAM
Christmas Morning:
C&B throw a large dinner for all employees. It’s held in Downing Park, near the amphitheatre. Everyone shows up wearing some shade of pastel green. I am wearing blue jeans and the brown flannel shirt Chris Makkas gave me. I feel out of place. I ask why everybody is wearing green. I’m told it’s a company ID thing. (Odd, I think, the green is more B&N.) I want to go home to change into the green Eddie Bauer sweater (from Patrick Leach/Chris Makkas).
Food is served at tables set with white table-cloths and silver flat-ware. Many get pizza. Everybody gets the food they’d requested. Somebody doesn’t get the kind of food they wanted and the wait-staff offer to correct the problem. I ask where I should sit. I’m told I need a ticket. I didn’t know I needed a ticket! I didn’t know we were supposed to request a specific dish for dinner. I’m told they “might” be able to give me something left-over but there was no guarantee.
I RAN to change my clothes. I had to run through what was, in reality, the Hebrew Home on Pallisade but in the dream was St. Luke’s Newburgh. Mom was working in the hospital and for some reason I couldn’t find her and at the same time, was trying to avoid her. I was being chased by someone. I don’t know who and I don’t know why. I was running FROM someone.
I ran through a which took me behind the Strook factory. I kept running and running! I never made it home. I never got to change. I never got to eat.

(PostTime: 13.02)

Last night I sat
alone
again
at a booth for two
beside the window.
I look up into the Norwood night
knowing that I was alone
I didn’t
belong
there any more.
There was a light from a window
across the way
up toward the roof
from a living-room there
at 3150.
A lampe on a table
just inside a window
giving a warm and welcoming
home-like glow.
The comfort of a sofa
in the just-right dimness of the lampe,
a glass of something pleasant to drink,
perhaps some television,
radio, music…
perhaps a little sewing or crochet,
or
perhaps
some water-colours,
music or not.
There,
there was the comfort,
the warmth, the welcome,
the memory…
only the memory…
of something that will never be
again.
From that window came the light
to illuminate the truth
that I will never
be
again.

05. Saturday: I headed out the door this morning to Brighton to get those black shoes at Jackie’s. I figure, might as well while I can. Hopefully they’ll get some use. They’re black, leather, hopefully water/weather proof. And only 25 dollars!
En route I rang Roni. I love her voice! I love her presentation. It was such a delight to talk with her. I’d put 30 dollars on the phone primarily for this conversation. She put her husband Jim on the line. He started doing Zuri’s taxes in 1980! The same year we’d met!
In the conversation, Jim told me that Karen was quite close to Zur. He’s probably buried in NJ some-where. Jim tried to contact the family too but nobody returns or responds or replies.
Yes, HIV plays into this too. I wonder… who would do such a thing to Zuri? Then Roni told me that he’d confided: he didn’t have many friends left and that he was SO afraid of being alone in his life! Imagine! Zuri being “alone”? But then the HIV factor comes into it. How could he be SO alone that he’d risk that? How could he have contracted it, having been so health-conscious most (if not all) of his life?
Roni remembered visiting with him, going to Virgin Records on Union Square and how he’d highly recommended that she get the video of “The Way We Were”. I wonder, in my heart and soul, why that particular film.
Well, another piece of my past is now gone. Little by little it will be wiped clean. I’ll have absolutely nothing to show that I ever existed. It’s the “Natural Order”s way of telling me that I’ve stayed too long and it’s time to leave. When I’m gone, there will be nothing left behind. So it the cycle of existence…
I’m at peace with this. Now back to the “book” and the planning. The “Seasonal” spot at the store has finished. I have to scrimp again. I came into this world on the terms of others… I leave completely on my own terms! I am resolved. I am determined!

09 Wednesday. A wonderful day at Gaston! The sun was warm and the wind was cool and crisp. I walked the beach, found a shell for haKalbah… She actually appreciated it. Soaked it in tap water over-night. Good. Takes away my serenity and any connection to my escape. She thinks I’m still at work. I don’t dare to tell her that I have been released at the end of the season!
I had to buy a new back-pack today. It kills me. I loved that old back-pack! I bought it in Montreal YEARS ago. Little by little the things that hold memories, the things that mean the most to me, are being stripped out of my existence. It’s time to GO.

(PostTime: 13.44)

These days when the day is done
and the sun is gone and the sky is blackened-blue
I stand at the corner waiting for the bus
and the wind beats against my frailing body
and I am not a part of my surroundings
and I am apart from my surroundings
all looks and feels
surreal.

If once I could reach out and touch
something
someone
in that other world that other cration
that surrounds me now
and if I could speak
and be heard…
if someone would understand
and not deride…
if someone could speak
and not lie
for a change…

I’m not certain.
I don’t know.
I don’t want to know
or to be certain.

There is only one thing, one thought, one dream, wish, hope, desire:
I do know
that I don’t want
to
be.

And the night becomes colder and colder still
and darker and darker yet
as I stand on the corner
in the midst of stangers
who will and must remain strangers
and I stand on the corner
in silence
and none of them knows
and none of them suspects
and not one of the cares.

(PostTIme: 13.50)

Oh look! There. Very attractive!
Please! Sit over there where I can see you.
I’d rather look at you than anything else.
No. Don’t be silly. I know damned-well right that you’d never be interested in me. Certainly not “that” way, anyway.
But please, sit over there and I can glance at you and be distracted.
Oh look!
Hey stupid! Move out of my line of vision! I don’t want to look at YOU! Geezus are you ugly! A shower wouldn’t kill you. You should try…
$#!T Sure. Line yourself right there!
Great. Now you’ve got that hideous black thing with you.
Where did HE go?
Is he still there? I don’t see him.
The window! The reflection! Oh! That’s just the edge of his forehead. He DID sit there. Now, why can’t I just sit here in silence and gaze on him?
Why?
I’ll tell you why…
That’s how it is.
If you sat there, gazing at him, it would bring you some little, harmless pleasure. That’s not what you’re here for. There is to be NO pleasure in any of this. So, just sit there, try to close your eyes and sleep until you either reach your stop or somebody does you the kindness of killing you in your sleep.
The train stopped.
A lot of people are leaving.
Is he in that crowd?
The doors are closing.
The uglies have moved.
There’s the seat where he was sitting.
Oh look! That ugly black thing has parked her arse where his was.
He’s gone.
Why do I even bother?

2008.11.January

(PostTIme: 11.12)

I’ve eaten my sandwiches
both of them
peanut butter and chocolate frosting
on a down-town train
bound for
no-where.
08.10.01 13h35 Nr.1

(PostTime: 11.16)

I didn’t stop to notice you
when you stood beside me and threw your parcel
on the little shed behind me.
But on the train what Isaw
was your perfect dark hair and narrow face
deep walnut eyes
classic Roman nose
and magnificent moustache above bowed lips.
And I thought, in silence
how I could lose my-self in your body
and drown all my ralities
and my-self
in your eyes.

You awakened my lust and my phantasies
and I thought
Why not? Look at me. The answer is Yes to everything.
When I looked up toward you again
you were facing the scratched metalic wall
conducting an animated conversation
with the image reflected
looking back at you
mimicing your every action.
I’ve done it
again…
08.10.01 13h42 Nr.1

(PostTime: 11.17)

There is soemthing poetic, calming,
reassuringly New York
about people who read books
on a subway
bound for the end of theline
when they silently close the cover,
hiding the pages of their tome
when
at long last
they reach their stop.
08.10.01 19h30 D-Bedford Park

(PostTime: 11.25)

In the darkenss of night’s sky
I stand at the corner, glancing emptily
down the block.
The trees are black skeletons
leafless in the melon-coloured street light.
I used to live in that building
up there, on the back, on the 6th, top, floor.

There is the waman who silently, calmly
closed her book on the train.
She looks peaceful.
She looks fatigued.
Our day is complete
Our night, just beginning.

I am sorry, saddened, but calm.
Why can’t I stay in this mood again?
Why can’t I simply go up-stairs and stay
in this aclmness through this night?

She looks at the bus schedule for the number 30.
A much younger, darker fellow
come to look too.
He turns to me and says
“Excuse me.”
All I can do is politely not.
I have no words, nor voice to speak.

I jumped from the roof of that building,
that house.
Viv came to visit, once. She drove.
I fell from the roof, it was over, it was too much.
Life and Love… just too much.
Dropping to the street was so peaceful. I was calm.
Knowing what was to come, I had no fear,
no anxieties.
The night air caressed me. It was beautiful.

At the gate, I parked the truck.
The day was cold. the vening brought snow.
It was the end of an era… the end of a life.

There, right there on the stret is where I struck.
I can see the very spot but no one else can.
There’s a shadow, remnants of blood and brains.
I felt my body smash against the pavement.
Still conscious and aware I thought
I’m dying. How peaceful. How painless.
The ambulance came for me, too late, of course.
A small crowd gathered
then dispersed.

I lived in that building.
I jumped from that roof.
I ended an era there.
I ended a life there.

I LIVED in that building. Loved and Laughed
and cried and sobbed.

The bus engine started and whined.
Headlights glared and burned into my eyes
as if to shut my thoughts down.
The end of an era
time to board the bus.
The night is beginning and peace ends.
08.10.01 19h50 206.Rochambeau

SATURDAY *****12 January A HIGH MOMENT IN THE MISERY OF EXISTENCE… I took the train(s) out to Rockaway Park, strolled down the block to catch the Q22 and out to Fort Tilden! I JOINED THE ROCKAWAY ARTISTS’ ALLIANCE TO-DAY!
Met Shirl, who asked me if I write. I said yes, in a manner of speaking. She’ll invite me to an open reading session where I can participate if I want to. (I dont’ know what I’ll read… if anything…). She’s very knowledgable on Jungian psychology… interesting…
I met Penelope, a sculptress,working on a beautiful little thing in black marble! She’s deep. She’s suffered, having lost her husband in recent times and then her 2 children shortly after to a drunken driver. She and I talked about the cleansing of the Rockaways.
I met Geoff, the President. Didn’t speak much, but I’m OK with that.
Brian, whom I don’t know but wore very interesting shoes and no wedding band. A “one-time” perhaps? Probably Irish. Could be of interest though.
Jimmy and wife. He was a PHD (Plumbing Heating and Drinking!) and she, a retired bookkeeper for Woolworth’s. We talked about the history of the Rockaways.
But the GREATNESS of this day is that I’m a member of the RAA and, although I dont’ have the wherewithall to get back to painting and serious art works, those who saw the pen-and-ink sketches truly admired them and are encouraging me to exhibit. If I could frame and store them (sketches), I would. But for now, the reality of this existence returns, as it does at Broad Channel, and I will settle for being happy with being a member.

13. Sunday: Up and out of the door first thing in the moring, of course. made my way to CIA tothe 99cent Limit for a few things. Chase Banque is now charging THREE phoking dollars for a transaction! I took my last 100 with me. Got what I wanted at 99-cent and walked over to MacDonald for the F train. Was hoping to stay out of Manhattan for the trip to Woodside via the G. But at Smith/9th there was no G so I backed-tracked to 4th for the R. Fell into a deep sleep en route. – At Woodside, got a large jar of peanut butter and 2 containers vanilla frosting. Now I need bread. I also need coffee. I have days for these. – Stopped at McDonald’s for a coffee. It did wonders. – Arrived back at Hell approx. 18h30. Kalbah believes I’m still working. I won’t tell her. But it makes no difference to her anyway. I still have to be out of her way when she has “friend” over. – Anyway, I actually ate a MOW this evening AND the eclair and baked pear she fondled with those filthy hands. I was hungry. I don’t care anymore. Hopefully it will all kill me soon enough. But I doubt it. And so I paid for the indescretion: CRAMPS! Alas…
Otherwise, there was a hope of snow for the night. It didn’t come. Of course. Tomorrow, Monday, the 14th, is another day. I’ve 20 days left on my MetroCard…
Addendum: The thoughts and memories of how my life is gone and why is boiling inside me more and more these days. I want, so much, to tell those people (I will NOT refer to them as being related to me in any manner any more) EXACTLY how much Hell they have thrust me into. I sometimes have to consciously control the urge to simply vomit the words “I SO PHOKING HATE ALL OF YOU!!!! It’s rather frightening to think that one of these days I won’t have the control and the words will come soaring out from my gut. I don’t ever recall ever being this hateful of anything or anybody ever before in my entire existence. I don’t want any of them dead… I want an infinitely eternal festering suffering for them, that will continue after I’m gone from this Creation.

14. Monday: The following notes written on the train…
Out all day. Returned. She was in the loo. I left book on her bed. (I’d bought “Where Are You When I Need You?” or something like that. “Befriending God”. I was in the Strand and found it. HAD to get it for her. Will I ever learn to stop?) Startled her. (She came out of the loo and didn’t see me sitting there, on the sofa, quietly.) “I’ve had my snack so I’m not hungry. If you are, help yourself. Did you buy me a gift?” (I didn’t let on about the book.) Started toprep a MOW. She MUST get up for tennis (on the TV). Tennis now and again at 21h! No appetite. (I fix instant ) coffee.
(I’d arrived at the flat about 18h.)
Leave at 18h30.
(I go directly to the bus. Stop at Dunkin Donuts 231st. 3 donuts. 1 Bav-cream, 2 curllers. I’d asked for 2 Bav-creame and 1 cruller. I eat them on the train.)
21h45 On the Q train headed toward DeKalb and The City. I took the 1 to 59th and waited. The A to Lefferts came. Had it been to FarRock I’d have goen there. The D showed. I went to Coney Island. Had a smoke and boardeed the Q. I’m hungry but shockingly not tired. But I don’t want to go back there! Spoke with Joe M. He called me “cute”. (Before I left5 the flat, I told him that I’m available to finish the painting job. Told him that my seasonal spot is over. “Why didn’t they keep you? You’re cute.”) It doesn’t matter. We’re on the bridge. I saw the Verazanno from the D train. It was illuminated. The bridges now, and The City too are illuminated. It’s wet. Everything else is dark. Lights are on. it should be pretty. I should be moved. I’m hungry. Above all, I’m hateful and I don’t care. With good luck, somebody will do me the kindness and kill me before I have to change trains tonight.
(Add: Arr’d back at 23h. TV still on tennis. We got the news. End of day. She found the book. HAD to start with 200 questions. At 23h54 I told her I was going to sleep because SHE had company coming tomorrow and I would not have the chance to nap during the day. I simply walked out of the room).
14.Monday:Addendum
Today, I bought a hard-cover edition of
“Home At The End Of The World” by Michael Cunningham
I will re-read it again… I will keep this book…. It will either be a legacy or it will come with me when I leave… to go to my home at the end of the world…

2008.15.January

(PostTime: 12.01)

Aboard, again
a train bound for
no-where
not any-where
in particular.
Alone, again
on a rainy night
out on a rail
and on a limb.
(The words just stopped!)
08.14.01 19h24 Aboard the Nr.1 down-town.

(PostTime: 12.03)

And here we are
in the middle of the night.
Monday.
Bensonhurst’s at its best.
The car is almost empty.
A light rain-fall is out there
in the darkness.
I know this only
because I caught ringlette
in the sparse puddles
on the streets below
in the darkness.

We approach the end
on the line
I am in Brooklyn.
it is home
these days.
I am here all day
and there
only to sleep.
Tonight I am home
on this D train.
08.14.01 20h48 at 25th Avenue

(PostTime: 12.06)

The cold dampness
of teh night out-side the window
struggles to reach in
perhaps to strangle me.
The drops of rain
smash against the glass
at my side.
There are 15 of us here
and it is empty.
There are 16 of us now
and I am still
alone
alone on a Q train
on a Winter night
alone.

Church Avenue.
But no sanctuary.
Church Avenue.
No Jesus.
No God.
This train is trying
to burrow to under-ground.
There are more of us now
heading toward the tunnel
bounding through the night
rumbling toward the under-ground.
Prospect Park.
The rian is falling
and now it doesn’t matter.
We are under-ground
wer are in the tunnel
where it is
night
forever
and I am
alone.
08.14.01 21h26 Q @ Newkirk Ave.

(PostTime: 12.07)

Atlantic
Avenue Ocean.
Under Atlantic
Avenue
I should be
under Atlantic
Ocean.
Wrong
again.
08.14.01 21h42

30. Wednesday: Queens Library Card! What a day! The winds were HOWLING and WHIPPING the Jamaica Bay! But the sky was clear and the air was crisp. I headed out to Rock Park, for no particular reason other than to NOT be in The Bronx or The City. When I got there, I decided to try my hand at a Queens Library card. What the hell? Eh? I could certainly use it. If not for computer time, then just to have that little connection to the land of my heart at present. So I walk in to the Seaside and it’s bright and cheery and relatively quiet and small. Small-town atmosphere. Certainly more dignified than the SD Lib! AND the BB Lib as well. But I digress. Apparently my applications in the past went through and a card was sent. But I never got it (of course). So I had to pay 2 bucks for a “new” card. NOT a problem! And so, as of today, I have my Queens card and the attachment begins. I was thrilled. The trip back was pleasant enough – considering where I was heading. I dozed deeply, as is becoming the usual en route.
I was also miserably sick today. Stomach all but killing me. Bowels ready to blow. But I HAD to get away… HAD to get out! So I went ALL the way to the end of the A just to accomplish this mission. Thankfully I got to use the loo at the library and hopped on the train back to Miseryville. Had I not been able to sleep on the train back, I’d’ve lost the contents of my bowels right there! Nobody knows the pain I’m in with my back and bowels. Nobody cares either.
Still, the WAVES on the bay! The rolling waters! The white-caps! It’s just so calming and amazing and enjoyable! I know I’m in Hell, but there are moments like these, crossing the Jamaica Bay when it becomes just a little better. If only I could go out there and never have to leave…
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