(no subject)

Apr 13, 2005 01:58

the surprising thing is when I lose my thoughts--when I think of everything in a linear narrative, think I will remember forever always THAT specific sun, THAT skirt, THAT breeze, THAT pavement and the way the awning becomes taut in the breeze and how the spring smells, and then I go to write and I can't, it's forgotten, a sort-of dream but not a dream because it is all around, and writing it--well, then it's not experiencing, and the hurtling towards something and how the 72nd subway station always rises up dusty majestic, somehow triumphant in spring and dusty August and the man who sells $1 grow-in-water animals and $2 wind up cars on the corner and iced coffees and exhausted in a beautiful way and the convergent center between Riverside and Central Park--

I think maybe 72nd St IS the center of my universe, whether I want it or not.

Maybe everyone has different centers of their universes--both endogenic and exogenic. Like, in yoga, how you imagine your inner light, which is supposed to be somehow contained, and mine is a light purple sphere--but everyone's is different, and, for me, in NYC, well--

there's my center, and yeah, I wish it was a little more exotic or hip than the Upper West Side, but there it is.

And yesterday I was able to run and do my yoga/stretching thing in the park--

and all is right with my world.

xA
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