A Night in the City

With an eerie predicament I've arrived in the same situation again.  Beer in hand as I write this, I ponder what it is like in the freezing cold outside.  Granted I'm here, driving home some cover letters like the supernova I want myself to be.  Why not spice up things with whiskey.  The bottle of whiskey that has been festering on-top of my fridge waiting for: "I'm going to enjoy myself while flipping off the world with my centre finger." Ba-ha, as I stir some into my glass.

But I feel this type of stuff is therapeutic.  It puts what you want to do in a perspective that otherwise gets cloudy when you live in such a polluted city.  I am not saying NYC is dirty, but the amount of distractions can fill your mind until it overflows.  You know? That occasional feeling you get at the bar when you want the tap to fill a bottomless chalice so you can consume yourself into a wormhole of feelings and be spit out at a different time.

I come to this realization every now and then.  It is mostly when I look out the window and the view isn't my neighbors garage.  I live in such a potential booming environment, why haven't I succeeded in life yet?  I've made it! I've made it into debt?

It's easy to think things will fall into place when you change your environment.  Sometimes you get lucky, but you really got to kick your own ass to move anywhere.  So here I am, coaxing my fingers to do what I do: to write some unwitting nonsense about my perspective of growing up at this very moment.  I'm sure that all the potential of this advice will be naught once I wake up tomorrow. "Ya   Dumb-ass", but said in the way from Red from That 70's Show.

Ehh

You know, I was working coat check at this music joint not too long ago, it was a private corporate party.  It was as close as being at an office without actually working at said office.  Needless to say, I was entertained by the cast of characters participating.  Some young, around my age, others were more established in their years.  One woman had a particular fascinating background:

She asked me what I was reading.

"Murakami, Dance Dance Dance"

She pulled out a book looking for her coat ticket, and I asked her about it, naturally.

"Oh, this is just a book from my dead husband, it's probably not as good as yours"

Say what? She went into detail and asked me what I do.  I say I write but haven't written for a long time.  She told me, write, blog, that's how you will get somewhere.  "Remember the woman with the dead husband who told you to write",  Then she left bidding me good luck.


Right. Well this is for you random-lady-with-dead-husband-I-met-at-coatcheck.  As I sip my beer listening to New Order; I feel like I'm writing this post with a synthesizer.