Coming back into New York. One last final flight. This time barely noticable due to all the endless momentum. I sometimes wonder what so much forward motion may affect on the body and mind, as we weren't born ready to travel so fast and so far. Jet lag is the feeling of your soul having been left behind, needing to catch up. Mine is in Tokyo. In Seattle I said "shimasen" instead of excuse me to various people. Everything confuses me down to what side of the street cars are on.
Usually when I come back to New York as soon as I hit my neighborhood I get such a warm feeling, love for my home. But this time it was subdued. Part of my soul is stuck in Japan. I'm happy for it and need it to come back, but I think I have to get back there to pick it up someday.
It's just such a radical shift. My cabdriver tried to screw me over and took various wrong turns and added to the fare. Three times he started driving away from the direction we needed to go. It's the kind of thing you have to watch out for in New York all the time. In Japan there's a tacit acceptance for the most part where any small job is done properly. I'm sure it puts enormous strain on people, but I appreciate it so much.
More than that I met such amazing people on this trip. I'm annoyed I can't just call them up and say hey let's go meet in the East Village. Thank you strangers, I now consider you friends and miss you already.
I got home and discovered that...
My Powermac G5 is broken and won't turn on. Apple says it's fucked and I just went out of warranty two weeks ago.
I left this apartment a much bigger mess than I remembered.
In my backyard, a plastic lawn chair has been shattered into fragments and there are traces of dark black and silver and pitch all over it. I'm convinced a meteorite struck it. That's the easiest explanation I can come up with.
This is very puzzling. I just want to come home and go to sleep but I feel odd, as if someone's been in here. Unsettling. And even though I know no one has, these are little odd mysteries. The G5 was fine when I left it unplugged. There's a lot of work trapped in that machine.
So now I can't sleep, and I'm doing work instead.
But for all that there is a good thing to come home to.
The stray cat remembered me and was at my backdoor five minutes within me coming inside. She won't let me pet her, like when we first met, but it was good to see her and she seemed happy to see me and she's sitting in the doorway right now looking at me. That's home.
Usually when I come back to New York as soon as I hit my neighborhood I get such a warm feeling, love for my home. But this time it was subdued. Part of my soul is stuck in Japan. I'm happy for it and need it to come back, but I think I have to get back there to pick it up someday.
It's just such a radical shift. My cabdriver tried to screw me over and took various wrong turns and added to the fare. Three times he started driving away from the direction we needed to go. It's the kind of thing you have to watch out for in New York all the time. In Japan there's a tacit acceptance for the most part where any small job is done properly. I'm sure it puts enormous strain on people, but I appreciate it so much.
More than that I met such amazing people on this trip. I'm annoyed I can't just call them up and say hey let's go meet in the East Village. Thank you strangers, I now consider you friends and miss you already.
I got home and discovered that...
My Powermac G5 is broken and won't turn on. Apple says it's fucked and I just went out of warranty two weeks ago.
I left this apartment a much bigger mess than I remembered.
In my backyard, a plastic lawn chair has been shattered into fragments and there are traces of dark black and silver and pitch all over it. I'm convinced a meteorite struck it. That's the easiest explanation I can come up with.
This is very puzzling. I just want to come home and go to sleep but I feel odd, as if someone's been in here. Unsettling. And even though I know no one has, these are little odd mysteries. The G5 was fine when I left it unplugged. There's a lot of work trapped in that machine.
So now I can't sleep, and I'm doing work instead.
But for all that there is a good thing to come home to.
The stray cat remembered me and was at my backdoor five minutes within me coming inside. She won't let me pet her, like when we first met, but it was good to see her and she seemed happy to see me and she's sitting in the doorway right now looking at me. That's home.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home