Well, I suppose it could have been raining. That would have made my first day back in New York an official beat down.
But it was clear and cool, about as beautiful as this city gets. And after putting in my 11 hours, I looked outside and said, “F This.” I walked home, double time, and hopped on my bike. The objective was some QT with a Battery Park sunset, but when I got there, I wanted to keep the endorphins coursing, so stayed on my bike, and raced the sunset home. Some dude on a Cannondale passed me around 14th Street, and filled me with extra zeal. Zipping past peds and Rollerbladers, ducking under stop signs, I made it to my fire escape by sunset.
It was a beautiful one, even if it was setting over the Department of Sanitation. And instead of the requisite Friday evening walk to Blockbuster, I decided to sieze my refrigerator’s moment of glory (it works for about 6 weeks at a time) and do some cookin’ (inspired, no doubt, by a week’s worth of grilling fresh fish on our Poi’pu patio). So I stocked up at D’Agastino’s (which is when I really knew I was home), called my cousin (who’s remixing “Summer’s Gone” in his Louisville studio), and whipped up a little somethin’ somethin’. It wasn’t Ahi, but it worked.
And now I’m listening to the new Counting Crows CD, “Hard Candy,” on repeat, and waiting to see if sleep strikes prior to my urge to paint.
I dunno’ if I’m quite “ready for anything” any more. I’m fighting to hold onto the sunshine.