2005-07-28

New York Nights

I lifted my head and tasted the perfect sea-breeze of the bay, and there were sailboats pasted on that horizon, which I saw through two myopic eyes, but nontheless, it all looked beautiful.

Despite its inconvenienes, I'd still admire the sun's chemical-red hue sliding over dark waves. It was somewhat foggy, and I could barely see in the distance, or clearly make out the other world on the other side.

I thought about the "summer" Etude. Liszt. Horowitz and his perfect mistakes.

And I thought of Gina. Jacob, too. Jules and Lawrence, also. These people, who, like me, cannot see the sailboats too well in the distance. Yes, so the fog inconviniences us all.

There was a happy rythm to the steps that Pierce and I took, discussing our music and our Neil Postman. I was drunk happy, like I usually am in the summer. To me, summer and winter are both...Alastair. Buzzing crickets in the musk of humidity are him, too.

Then, there are the nights in New York Andrew and I plan to spend: drunk-happy, lost contently in a larger city. Sick with excitement, though both of us have been there before. But, I'll follow his lead because he is, after all, a New Yorker.

And it all dies down--the conflict. It all dies and fizzes down, and back to the waxy dusk, with sailboats in the distance, and my imagination running wild.


aeka at 8:08 p.m.