Can you tell me what it's like to be deeply in love? Can you? Because I am so curious, but I think my curiosity leaves me like a puzzled Anthropologist; studying a culture forever and still not quite getting it because I'm so far removed.
Thoughts like this keep popping into my head these days. I've been spending too much time alone, perhaps, and in all honesty I'm a little depressed. I've set out on a couple of mini-pilgrimages in the last couple of days and come up with nothing so I'm tempted to just go and sit in Central Park for 72 hours or so until my flight leaves. Today I was walking through Queens and someone made a nice, loud remark about my wearing shorts. I had heard about women being harassed on the street in Queens but being chosen myself as a target just gave the whole issue a nice personal touch for me. I immediately went and bought a cheap pair of men's jeans so I could, I don't know, have some peace while I wandered through this place. The incident just made me ask myself why I'd come to Queens. The answer? I wanted to see a museum that's closed for renovation. But hey, at least now I have a nice pair of ill-fitting pants with which to deflect male attention.
Since I wrote last I've done a few things. Went for a melancholy walk along the beach at Coney Island. Walked through the rooms of down-on-their-luck immigrants at the Lower East Side Tenements Museum. Lost myself in Brooklyn's Prospect Park. Brooklyn yesterday was kind of nice. Queens today was okay. But it all feels smaller and smaller as I wait to go home. Maybe someday I'll regret being so down on things when I should be relishing these last days. But honestly; I'm tired of this. I'm done. I want to go home.
Tonight I'm going to the show Promises Promises on Broadway. It seems like it'll be interesting and I needed an upper. Tomorrow I'd like to spend a day in the Bronx and get away from Manhattan Madness. We'll see how all my big plans go.
It's not a perfect metaphor.