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I had to stay late at work last night to compress video which, as you may know, involves sitting there while computers perform complex algorithms and taunt me with their cold, empty way of getting shit done.
Bitterly, I returned home, banged my drum, and then sat listening to Leonard Cohen. I was in no mood to go out when G and H arrived, itching for adventure. But when G proposes something crazy like going to Coney Island at 11 p and swimming and hopefully riding rides and throwing our cares to the wind it seems like there’s no other choice. Like I’d be insane to not want to ride the subway forty-five minutes in each direction and ignore my better reasoning skills that make me think the rides are probably closed at midnight on Monday. Like not going would be a crime against the collective inner child of the universe, putting it to work in a sweatshop, never letting it see natural light, or worse: indoctrinating it with all my insecurities and hates and fears. So, we packed up some beers, a beer diaper (an improvised device which rather cleverly conceals that publicly forbidden payload), some dry clothes, a Swiss army knife, our wallets (money, identification, Metrocard), no towel, and of course G’s camera w/ waterproof case, and hit the road.
At the beach we had to navigate between these giant machines which groom the sand in the middle of the night. With their blinding lights it was hard to see if they were robots or had drivers, but in any case, we minded our business and they theirs and made our way to the shoreline. We paused for a minute, looked at each other knowingly and counted off. One. Two. Three! The water was practically black, but actually quite warm, and off towards Europe the dark blue sky must have met the ocean at some point creating a horizon, but it was indistinguishable as far as we could tell. Just one solid field of deep purple/blue, like a piece of modern art that would piss off most museum goers: one color? what the fuck is that? i could do that. that’s not art.
We probably swam around for an hour or so and then went in search of food, finding Nathan’s Hot Dogs. The amiable, but Eastern European service personal convinced G and H to get superburgers, and though H was pretty upset that they were out of pickles, we all enjoyed our meals standing around a table, eventually leaving three little puddles in our wake. G fell asleep on the subway ride home, but H and I managed to keep it together and get us back to Boerum Hill.
And what of today? Am I tired? No. In fact, I feel great. I feel centered. All the anger and frustration that brewed inside me as I waited for those video files to compress, it all dissipated. I even get to leave work early today to wait around for the Verizon guy, and as a bonus, hang out with G and H some more. Then later, D and I are going to have some coffee and discuss a future project. Oh for fun, Charlie!