pointless

 


listen

read

resume

contact

raccoon
pointless
dave malloy
pointless.

hmph.

13 August 2003

-power-

hi! hello!

magic power! magic magic magic all around us i tell you!

i was reading a friends lovely blog today, she was talking about the blackout, and how states of emergency bring you to this enviable place of primal childlike emotion. which is true, and god i was happy to be a part of something, to have that envy fulfilled. but the thing was, it wasnt emergency like at all- there was no panic, no blank stares and desperate cries- and i was in union square, a pretty crowded place. no, as the information rippled through the crowd, and the scope of the thing was slowly understand through overheard mumblings and the occasional batteried radio, the reaction was childlike, but giddy, just giddy. which was shocking to be sure, one would think that a post 911 new york city crowd would feel a little more anxious, but, really, really, everyone was just kind of silly. people just sat down and watched and marveled. and even as people talked about the idea of terrorist hackers and electromagnetic pulses, it was always with a laugh, a how ridiculous, and the real question was how am i going to get home. and as everyone slowly realized that well, they were going to have to walk, walk, to the bronx, or brooklyn, or queens, well, people just seemed to awake and a small childs grin would appear, and the adventure began. you get to have an adventure today! so we started walking towards the williamsburg bridge, and the traffic was ridiculous, and the drivers were furious but the pedestrians empowered and coyly oblivious. and there was a table of hassids passing out water, and there was ice cream for a dollar, everywhere, everyone had ice cream and huge smiles as they limped forward int their business shoes. and then, perfect, the shoe store, open and passing out sneakers to high heeled ladies.

the bridge, the bridge. the whole incoming side was just filled with walkers, sweating and smiling, and asking, how far do you have to go, where were you? ah god! the bridge took an hour of sun and water and city people sweating and stopping to rest their feet but awake and alive.

but nothing could have prepared for brooklyn when the sun went down. booze everywhere, on the stoops, and radios, and conspiracists, and then rooftops and barbecues of youve gotta cook it now meat. i finally meet up with parnell on our friend sarah's stoop, after i run to the deli to get cherry cokes to mix our bourbon with. and in the deli, they let you in two at a time, and you are given a flashlight, and you search through quiet coolers all these familiar logos and products turned magic by the darkness.

and more ice cream. here, here, have some ice cream. we walked down to the water and watched the beautiful dark city. we went to the pizza shop, their ovens still hot, and candles on the counter, and the man is sweating and counting, how many slices, cinco due, une, pointing at people. the bars are magic, everyone looks like a mystery by candlelight.

at the end, as we walked home towards our sure to be stiflingly hot apartment, we made one last stop at another ice cream store, and there behind the counter is the beautiful polish ice cream server ive fallen in love with this week, her english is halting yet coquettish, and her dresses play the violin when she walks. we tease each other for while, wordless, and then i ask her, as im ordering, "is this the best night of your life?" and she looks at me smiles, and misunderstands and answers "moosetracks", and i forget everything and feel like a child who will never understand and never, never ever, how could i ever, not be happy.

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?