Part 2, Monday-Thursday
May. 25th, 2003 12:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dchenesOn Monday I got up too early and went off to South Station. At least I managed to arrange things so that I had time to buy and ingest coffee before I got on the train.
I decided that for this trip, I was going to write down things that struck me, or things I remembered, and so I've got a whole list of mental snapshots. Here are some of them:
outh Station: sitting at a table drinking coffee. An entirely copper-colored woman sits down at the table and freezes with a cup partway to her mouth, doing a living-statue performance.
South Station: live jazz, interrupted by a black man’s voice wishing all us happy people a good day, every five minutes.
On the train: a man with a voice like a cement mixer, intermittently calling somebody to argue about family problems
On the train: a lawyer going to Newark, intermittently calling people about millions of dollars in investments and files left on desks in New York
Manhattan: heat, drunk on the atmosphere in Times Square. People everywhere, lights everywhere, wanting to stand on the corner and absorb Manhattan through my skin
42nd St and 8th Ave: Port Authority. Cool, dark, emptier than any other place in Manhattan yet. Sort of like a circus in the number and size and colors of banners advertising bus routes.
On the bus: Road signs for New Jersey. Last time I looked, that was south of New York. There isn’t a Kingston, NJ, is there? Oh, damn, what happens if that’s where I’m going?
On the bus: Woman sitting with her daughter, talking about religion and college life. She seemed to think she was imparting good advice. The daughter seemed to think “Smile and nod and when she leaves I can do what I want”.
There: Flaming towers of onion rings in the Japanese restaurant, flaming hibachis that heat up my eyebrows.
There: The shadow of maple leaves on the white blinds against the green wall
There: Standing against the piano while it rings with ragtime, hearing the wires vibrate under the notes
There: Sitting on the deck with a cushion, hearing the buzzing overtones in the windchimes
On the bus back: The bus lurches like a camel getting up; first up, then alarmingly sideways. Is that what a “kneeling bus” means?
On the bus back: A flatbed truck carrying three gazebos and a garden shed (or a caboose, since it was red)
On the bus back: No matter how many times you pass them, signs for Ho-Ho-Kus are still silly.
Port Authority: Everything but an exit, unless you know where you’re going. Up three escalators and where’s 8th Ave and for that matter where’s a map, and oh, there’s a map, and down one escalator and blam, there’s 8th Ave staring me in the face.
8th Ave Manhattan between 42nd and 33rd: A man with absolutely gorgeous long dreadlocks, skin the color of light coffee, a ring with the Jamaican flag on it, wheeling a dolly slowly up the sidewalk
Penn Station: I did it. I navigated 9 blocks all by myself and I didn’t get mugged, or anything. Silly person, I am.
On the train: Through the window everything is yellow. The sky looks even more likely to open up and pour. Is it raining in Boston too?
On the train: New London. I know where this is. I wish I could just get off the train here and leave everything else for a while.
There are a lot of things I could say about this trip, but I'm merely going to say I'm glad I did it. Being at work again on Friday was weird. I got through all the backlogged paperwork and mail and phone messages and then it was time to leave again for the long weekend. Somewhere in the course of the trip I caught a cold, so I sound like a frog when my voice works at all.
Yesterday I got the last of my tasks for the month of May done, by helping another set of friends move. That was followed by dinner, and dinner was followed by coming home, going to bed and staying there until 11:30 this morning. I haven't slept that late in ages.
I am thoroughly sick of the bathtub drain being slow. That's on the list of things to get done sometime in the next two days, along with going to see Reloaded and doing something about the fact that we don't own Singing in the Rain any more. But for once I don't have a schedule that demands that I do certain things on certain days. I like this. Now if I could just get my voice to work reliably...
I decided that for this trip, I was going to write down things that struck me, or things I remembered, and so I've got a whole list of mental snapshots. Here are some of them:
outh Station: sitting at a table drinking coffee. An entirely copper-colored woman sits down at the table and freezes with a cup partway to her mouth, doing a living-statue performance.
South Station: live jazz, interrupted by a black man’s voice wishing all us happy people a good day, every five minutes.
On the train: a man with a voice like a cement mixer, intermittently calling somebody to argue about family problems
On the train: a lawyer going to Newark, intermittently calling people about millions of dollars in investments and files left on desks in New York
Manhattan: heat, drunk on the atmosphere in Times Square. People everywhere, lights everywhere, wanting to stand on the corner and absorb Manhattan through my skin
42nd St and 8th Ave: Port Authority. Cool, dark, emptier than any other place in Manhattan yet. Sort of like a circus in the number and size and colors of banners advertising bus routes.
On the bus: Road signs for New Jersey. Last time I looked, that was south of New York. There isn’t a Kingston, NJ, is there? Oh, damn, what happens if that’s where I’m going?
On the bus: Woman sitting with her daughter, talking about religion and college life. She seemed to think she was imparting good advice. The daughter seemed to think “Smile and nod and when she leaves I can do what I want”.
There: Flaming towers of onion rings in the Japanese restaurant, flaming hibachis that heat up my eyebrows.
There: The shadow of maple leaves on the white blinds against the green wall
There: Standing against the piano while it rings with ragtime, hearing the wires vibrate under the notes
There: Sitting on the deck with a cushion, hearing the buzzing overtones in the windchimes
On the bus back: The bus lurches like a camel getting up; first up, then alarmingly sideways. Is that what a “kneeling bus” means?
On the bus back: A flatbed truck carrying three gazebos and a garden shed (or a caboose, since it was red)
On the bus back: No matter how many times you pass them, signs for Ho-Ho-Kus are still silly.
Port Authority: Everything but an exit, unless you know where you’re going. Up three escalators and where’s 8th Ave and for that matter where’s a map, and oh, there’s a map, and down one escalator and blam, there’s 8th Ave staring me in the face.
8th Ave Manhattan between 42nd and 33rd: A man with absolutely gorgeous long dreadlocks, skin the color of light coffee, a ring with the Jamaican flag on it, wheeling a dolly slowly up the sidewalk
Penn Station: I did it. I navigated 9 blocks all by myself and I didn’t get mugged, or anything. Silly person, I am.
On the train: Through the window everything is yellow. The sky looks even more likely to open up and pour. Is it raining in Boston too?
On the train: New London. I know where this is. I wish I could just get off the train here and leave everything else for a while.
There are a lot of things I could say about this trip, but I'm merely going to say I'm glad I did it. Being at work again on Friday was weird. I got through all the backlogged paperwork and mail and phone messages and then it was time to leave again for the long weekend. Somewhere in the course of the trip I caught a cold, so I sound like a frog when my voice works at all.
Yesterday I got the last of my tasks for the month of May done, by helping another set of friends move. That was followed by dinner, and dinner was followed by coming home, going to bed and staying there until 11:30 this morning. I haven't slept that late in ages.
I am thoroughly sick of the bathtub drain being slow. That's on the list of things to get done sometime in the next two days, along with going to see Reloaded and doing something about the fact that we don't own Singing in the Rain any more. But for once I don't have a schedule that demands that I do certain things on certain days. I like this. Now if I could just get my voice to work reliably...
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2003-05-25 10:24 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2003-05-25 07:42 pm (UTC)Re:
Date: 2003-05-25 08:46 pm (UTC)New Jersey is west of midtown. It's quicker than crossing the river within New York State.