Oh the Idiot on Parade

So the lunatic up and runs to New York, all because he can’t get this girl out of his head, but he has come to the point of submission. He no longer knows which way is up or down, the lunacy finally beat him. The opinions mean nothing anymore and faith is replacing questions. OK, here I am. Drove in through the Holland tunnel at about 7:30 am, having left Louisville Kentucky the day before later than expected, about 3:30 or 4 in the afternoon. Drove through the night, medicated with only coffee and red bulls. The Denver to Louisville route was more energetic but that all ran out in a little Kentucky bar with my friend who has the fondest taste for heroin. Couldn’t even get a Screwdriver on arrival this morning. The Aspen snob has found this reputedly high class establishment less than satisfactory. Went to sleep around 9 am, woke around 1 and took the dog on a long walk around the down town area. Searching for elusive dog parks we took a stroll down into Battery Park City. Kingston just wanted to jump in the river. I was given directions to 3 or 4 different dog parks. “Just two blocks up there and 1 block down,” “yea there’s a big one just down there, just walk up that ramp and it’s right there.” I didn’t find any of them, but it was one of the most perfect days I’ve ever seen in the city. I’ve been lucky that way in NYC. The temperature was soft, warm but not quite warm enough for sun bathing, just a touch of cool wind for freshness. There was not a cloud in the sky. The dog and I walked for hours. Had a few glasses of wine and a sandwich and risotto at Oniels on Grand. I think I may have spent the larger part of an evening there a few years ago. Talked to Tim the art collector, a very nice fellow who made many recommendations for my potential living situation. I went back to the hotel and slept for the late afternoon, maybe fell off to the dreams around 6:30, woke around 11 pm. About 11:45 pm it was time for another walk with the dog, we’re getting used to the city, and poor little guy, there’s just not much privacy for his business now. I can’t just slide the back door open anymore and let him roam down to the river and run with the elk, foxes and bears. But I’m a man after all, and there are many men in this city, and many dogs. Kingston found the stimulations most satisfactory. There was no friction. His friendliness was apparent to all, and New Yorkers seem to like the little black dog just fine. As we left the room for the late night walk, the lobby of the Tribeca Grand was bumping bass music and as we walked out the elevator, and past the bar area, I was aware of my alien nature. I’ve never seen these levels of fakeness before, as if there is such a thing, but I’ve never seen Chachi like this, even in Aspen. After a nice little walk, the young dog was brought back to his room, and the Reverend Scott took another stroll. I walked downstairs again, thinking that maybe something would change if I just gave the place another try, and besides the guy at reception had given me a couple free drink tickets. I couldn’t even approach the bar, free drinks or not, I scrambled out onto the street and into the night air. Not my scene. So I just walked. Walked into SOHO, passed the SOHO Grand on my left, that’s how I knew I was in SOHO. Then I recognized fading yellow paint, a bar on my right, and a bright lit sign that I may have last seen on a morning a few years previous. The Cupping Room, a restaurant. I walked in. It was a nice scene. No Jenn. Was this where we had breakfast the last time we saw each other? I believe it was. I didn’t sit down for a drink, and I missed the band. So I walked out, and down the street a little farther and thought back. It was morning, another blue sky day, and she walked off down the street with her dark hair blowing in the wind. The heart has its reasons whereas reason knows nothing. At least, that’s what they say. Was it Pascal, translated from French? I’m trying to forgive my heart. We go where the winds blow us. Here I am. What, expecting to run into the girl on the street? It’s about 1:30 am now, and I walk to a little grocery store and buy a sushi roll in a plastic box, some sliced mango, and a Kombucha, walk back to the hotel, through the pounding music, through the loud, stylishly dressed look-alikes, the beautiful girls, and I’m just not interested. I’m in New York, and my heart led me here. I’m looking for this girl who has a little cabin in my chest. We may have met in another universe, or our molecules danced once for an afternoon. I may have been chasing her for lifetimes, watching her walk away, as she turns and smiles over her shoulder, with her dark hair blowing in the wind. It’s a nice image anyway. Good night winterberries. Pray for the will of the All.