The Flash

I dropped mailers for the April 13th Arlene show at Kinko’s on my way home from work. I hustled home, changed into my running gear, and headed west towards the river.

The hum of traffic along the West Side Highway gave way to the lapping of the river. The George Washington Bridge glowed upstream. I jogged out on the 70th Street pier, as I often do, to look back at the city.

The Empire State was a brilliant red, white and blue amidst the low-flying clouds. Downtown, the twin beams of light shone blueish-white, reminiscent of the last scene of Raiders of the Lost Ark when Bellach opens the Ark and sets lost souls screaming into the sky. I ran on, past The Dakota, into Central Park, ducking through the trees to the horse path into the pitch black tunnel under Straweberry Fields. Past the Tavern on the Green, through Columbus Circle, and down Broadway, I stepped into a deli for a Gatorade 32:16 later.

Back around the corner to Kinkos, I made my pick up. I stepped over to the cutter, and began cutting the mailers, 3 pages at a time, five cuts per page. As I cut and cut and cut, I figured that, over the years, I’ve sent out some 16-24,000 mailers, each one a labor of love, and a small work of art. Each one carefully thought out to say something about where I am at the moment.

This one, fittingly, is line art of a foot with a wing on it, a la the FTD guy’s hat, or The Flash. At first, I was thinking about making it my new tshirt logo (long story — tell ya’ later). But it occurred to me, as I stood there cutting, sweating from my run, that it fits for lots of other reasons, not the least of whic being that I’m running the Queens Half Marathon the morning of the next show.