Hell is quite beautiful this time of year.
Amazing to me that growing up in this sprawl of concrete, strip malls and haze, I was unaware of the beauty in surrounding towns. Take the bike, avoid the highways, and trickling streams meander through voluptious woods, robust with vegetation foreign to me: huge green leafy plants interspersed by long tufts of this strange grass stuff that appears dead at the root but blooming above. Several dozen different species of trees, unlike the four different varieties in AZ. The cactii I love are replaced by the equally prickly, yet ugly, sprawling, annoying, unavoidable, pain-in-my-asshole pricker bushes. Grandiose views are obscured by the ever present brown on the horizon, but hey - I was beginnng to paint a picture of beauty, so how 'bout I ditch the negativity for a minute, K?
What to me was always one of the world's greatest ironies is actually a statement based in truth: NJ is the Garden State. How very odd.
Here's another odd little factoid: there's a plethora of paved trails through the woods. Kinda used to just seeing dirt there! And if I still had my mountain bike, the paved parts might piss me off, but seeing as how that baby is gone and I'm left with the ol road bike, yet I can still ride for endless miles through pristine mountain beauty (ok-that might be a bit of a stretch) - I'm enjoying the paved options at the moment.
And the solace I've managed to attain while in the bustling city is amazing! The place I went in to find drugs in the middle of the night in high school, Washington Square Park, has taken my lead and cleaned up over the years ;) and now, strolling through late night brings encounters with folks just playing their guitar or otherwise peacefully chilling. I ended my evening the other night singing 4 part accapella Amazing Grace with some singing strangers I invited myself to join. Several hours before that I'd been sitting on a rock on the upper west side, watching the river ripple and lap peacefully up against the shore, then spent a little time bouldering through central park. I went to an open mic in the village, which probably boasted more comics and poets than musicians, yet still managed to receive four free cds, two of which really rock. (My film class was cancelled that day, so it was another glorious fart around the city experience.)
Though I tend to walk everywhere when time and weather allow, I did find myself in a rush and on the subway one warm, gorgeous day. I was wearing a skirt, tank top, sandals, and never before had felt so slimy. When I'm bundled up and walk by a piss puddle and see a rat scurry across the tracks, it doesn't really faze me, but somehow my skin exposed the stagnant, grime filled subway filth made me feel kinda nasty, creeped out.... Violated? Yep, some how, that word seems fitting.
So...life is good. I love NY. I even really like parts of NJ. I miss AZ. I'm glad I'm here.
Warm and fuzzy all over. Yum. : )