I have a whole story about my journey back to Toronto. Right now, I don’t want to tell that story. It’s all adrenaline and fear and struggle. It’s played out.
I am sitting in an Airbnb facing sliding doors that give me a view of many looming towers and skyscrapers. I am tempted to brave the cold and move a few feet forward to the balcony. It is easy for me to romanticize the world on the 27th floor with a thousand illuminated windows staring back at me.
I am listening to “Long Walk Home” by Bruce Springsteen. I have been on my way home since March 14th and even after I leave self-isolation it could be months until things feel normal again. Change is here; like a car that has flipped, blown up and caught fire. It’s time to stop clutching the seatbelt.
I have decided (with no evidence to back me up) that New York is a dry place and so I am sitting in a beautiful armchair (it is beautiful) with a chai tea, a bottle of water and the biggest bottle of moisturizer that I could find at Target.
I had such a wonderful day today. Lately, I have been pretty focused on work and personal projects so the idea of taking a weekday to hang out in the neighbourhood seemed like a waste of time. Then I remembered the nagging voice in my head that has been saying: what are you doing here that you can’t do in Toronto?Go do THAT.
So I put an ‘out of office’ reply on my emails, stuffed my work phone in a drawer. I jumped on the B Train and took myself and my book for breakfast.
I ended up at Milk and Honey, a nice brunch spot that appealed to me almost entirely based on the pictures. It’s sunny and lush and as I happily discovered: good food, amazing coffee.
I then went to check out a co-working space that has a work exchange program. It turns out to be a nice work alternative while I am back and forth from Toronto. It’s a short walk from my place and it would be a lovely shift from my current bedroom office. It’s also affiliated with a yoga studio and wellness centre. Most importantly they sell $1 bags of microwavable popcorn, which is basically my version of ‘having me at hello’ (I’m a surprisingly cheap date 😉 ).
At the moment I am about 10 minutes away from Prospect Park which I guess is the Central Park of Brooklyn (or at least designed by the same guys). I’m really starting to appreciate having the ability to step outside of the city and into nature. It’s something that I forget to do in Toronto and I am pretty grateful to have such easy access. These pictures don’t really do it any justice.
I walked to Park Slope and stumbled into a record shop, one that contained so many records that I immediately felt overwhelmed. A guy drinking a beer, amid the cramped quarters, called out:
“Anything that you’re looking for in particular?”
And me, trying to find an entry point: “Nope, just trying to get the lay of the land.”
He pointed out the various genres and then offered me a beer.
I’ve woken up several nights in a row at exactly 4:00am. It reminds me that I haven’t quite made my room a home. I feel so awake. I feel too aware. I just want to be shut off but I am so conscious, all thoughts, all here.
It’s around 10:00pm, and I can feel all of the lights in my brain turning on. Fluorescent lighting, all buzzing, all downcast. I grab the joint hidden in my drawer. I grab the matches in the kitchen. I take myself on a walk on this crisp Brooklyn night. I find a little corner and light the joint.
I inhale.
And exhale.
And walk to a Bodega and buy a very big beer.
Am I getting smaller or are tallboys getting bigger?
No, it’s the US of A. Sometimes the whole country is Texan, go big or go home. As I push my dollar bills towards the guy at the counter I decide that maybe for a little bit longer, I’ll take that TALLboy tonight.
I walk around the neighbourhood for a bit. Looping around, blasting The Stones, The Pixies, The Stooges. My headphones have become my home when I can’t quite find it. When I’m finally back in my room it takes my body a whole three songs to thaw from the cold. I evaluate the room again. The bed isn’t in the right spot, the lighting is too bright.
The girl needs a beer.
Small adjustments, but that’s not the game we’re playing. We’re going big.
Progressively Louder Laughter 