IT’S BEEN two, three weeks after the Summer Solstice and the thought that fall would be upon us soon is both dreadful and exciting. Fall is my summer after all but it is the cold that will soon follow that is a bummer. Mid-July and the temperatura is in the low 90s, no warnings of a heatwave has been sounded although there was a red flag about an air cleanliness index last week. August will kick off summer streets (for the first time, biking for me from 72nd to City Hall instead of running), Memorial Day will come, and then viola, September. I have never survived September without wearing a hoodie. So yes, it’s going to get cold soon.
THE FOURTH of July was spent in a cabin in the woods. Nothing supernatural occurred, except maybe I only drank four bottles of Stella at that place while the rest were downed in off the road restaurants and lobster places. Trekking (read: riding a four-wheeler) up two National Parks for some fresh air. Picking up a Stephen King paperback at a local convenience store. Pissing in portalets and outhouses of gas stations. Sleeping in bunks beds with my wife and foregoing sex. Cooking the usual eggs and fried rice and bacon and spam for breakfast. Starbucks coffee. Yes, it was a good break. I look forward to Fire Island this fall.
TAKING THE day off as my gout is acting up. Add to that, there is an electrical problem at the office and the only way to go to work is to climb six flights of stairs in this humid weather. Six flights, when you take a pre-war warehouse, means around 12 flights of modern stairs. So no, can do, senyores. I need the money for the Europe trip this year but I can’t walk that number of flights. Thankfully, Joy is also at home, offsetting her Monday day off when she met a client for dinner. The plan today is to finish the Stephen King novel, last week’s NY Times, and to write 2,000 words at the very least on a new short story. All I have is a title and some semblance of the road it would take. But I miss writing in the morning so who knows where this could lead to. There’s also the laundry in the mix as I am running out of clean briefs.
AH, THE bike. An all-black fixie with no stand, bell, relfectors, water holder, lock holder and what have you. I love it. From Mott Street to 81st Street, I did a Le Tour de Upper East three days ago and sweated out my non-existent office stress. Yes, about a year into the gig now and I still love the beautiful, optimistic hipsters. Anyway, fixie riding is the way to go and I wonder how I could ever go back to gears. Really. This something that could only be experienced, not explained. This weekend, I attempt Le Tour de Outer Loop at the park with its half ascent and half descent course populated by runners and bikers alike. And then maybe next weekend, the Brooklyn Bridge with all those tourists.
TWO BOOKS that will be read after King:
NOW ONTO reading and writing.