My Mood Pool

When one sense goes, they say the others get stronger. Being blind, I suppose my imagination has benefitted.  So I lost one of my contacts today. Good thing I have glasses that slide off my nose when I sweat. Good thing it's humid so I'm in a constant sweat. I went for a bike ride, with my glasses, along the Verrazano Bridge and at the end of the path there's a pier with a view of the NYC Skyline. When it began to rain, I sat in it, no big deal. Then it began to pour, still no big deal. Then, I began thinking, "I have electronics in my pocket, I should probably salvage them before they drown," so I walk up to the frozen yogurt truck and ask if the guy has a small plastic bag. He hands me one and asks if I want to jump inside the  truck for shelter. I'm already drenched so there's no point, and I can't ditch the bike in fear of it being stolen. No matter how tempted I was to see the inner workings of a food truck, I declined. In retrospect, I was totally being lured into some guy's truck.

The story that really matters though, it my time in the local coffee shop afterwards. Mocha Mocha Coffee is a mediocre shop. The coffee and pastries are decent and the lighting is very orange. I feel like I'm hanging out in a lava lamp which isn't always a bad thing. This is a B-rated coffee shop in the sense of B-rated horror flicks--it's still a coffee shop, but it's kind of a joke with cult following potential--not in the sense of sanitation...I hope. Out of all the fancy, beautifully designed places in New York, this B-rated coffee shop got one thing right: it houses the most comfortable chairs in USA's Northeastern region.

I was feeling enigmatic so I later took a local train ride to Manhattan because the trains seem to be the only place I can read, and it seemed sitting on a bench in Columbus Circle, was the only place I could write--write about myself, of course, because I ain't about to go ballistic novelistic. And the train ride home seemed to be the only place I could sleep seeing that it is 0339 IN NEW YORK AND I AM STILL AWAKE BLOGGING.

See if you can find the skyline.

I need windshield wipers for my glasses.

Best chair evarrr. Looks aren't what matters in this situation.

This is how they club at Columbus Circle.

Subway Sleep Makes Me Feel Rested

Ever been laying down sleeping and then you bolt right up into sitting position because of a dream? That has never happened to me. Ever been zonked out on the Subway and the same thing happens except you're already in the sitting position so you kinda just jerk forward and hope nobody saw? Oh just me? MY BAD.

I think I found Carmen San Diego.

Master printer Pepe Coronado in the flesh. Don't worry, I didn't know who he was before today either. But he cool.

Train of Thought

The subway trains are organized by color/number/letter, and so, you're waiting for the D Train on the orange line to get home. Underground, the platform is hot, mucky, and you're sweating all kinds of nasty off your face. You see a bright, warm light at the end of the tunnel. This train is coming your way, it's going to stop right in front of you, and you don't even have to open the door yourself. What an honor! You feel like royalty. It's still a little far but the hope in that one orange circle on that train's facade eases your soul. Thoughts of a shower, a bed, a mumu fills your mind like quenching thirst with a glass of marinara sauce. So you hop on this heavenly metal swan that will fly you towards the comforts of home.

The train, oh the train!

Refreshing air conditioning showers over you, the fluorescent lights bring you back to elementary school where you attained a free education and a rectangular pizza with cubed pepperonis for lunch: the greatest gift of all, and a whimsical orange seat straight out of Charles and Ray Eames' office cradles you into the journey. You are on your way, my friend. You are on your way home. You are reminiscing the beautiful memories made that day as the train glides into Brooklyn for instance: dirt cheap dumplings for lunch as well as the choice to wear suede shoes in the rain and the wonders that will do to your feet. Then a muffled, "aslthisjskd jsiskdj a mmmmrgheeeee train, 7 Ave. is the next stop," and you think, "hm, the D train never stops at 7 Ave." Motivated to investigate, you pick up your eyes and look upon the subway wall. It is an orange circle. The letter inscribed to the center of this geometric delight is a B. SHIIIIIIIIIII-

D Train. D as in Desired Train.

B Train. B as in it-would-be-a-Big-ol'-biiii----Bother-to-attempt-getting-home-from-this-train.

How I processed it: 1. The D train is indicated by a D centered in a circle 2. My mind circled, enlarged, and centered 1/2 of the B from the B train; 3. I squinted and confirmed it was the correct train.

I was also pleased with a modified "Wet Paint" sign at some point during the day.

A Homage to Past Summers.

Today was a great day at work. So I feel that I am barely savvy with Photoshop but I spent the day SLOWLY workin' some magic on an image, and I got a, "good job," from the architect with whom(?) I was working. A compliment like that is just common courtesy if you haven't completely ruined everything, but then one of the graphic designers complimented me on my work as well which is an indication that I may have done something right this time. In honor of how esteemed I feel today I made a LITTLE 10-MINUTE SO'MMSO'MM:

Nico'Yo'; San Fran 2010 (?)

Mami y Papi; San Fran 2011

Vacationing Together; San Fran 2012

Look now. Ask questions later.

oh, hell no.