Well, everyone out there, I've been very busy. Very busy indeed. First it was work work work. Then, family stuff. Then... dating? Yes. Imagine that. Not just a lot of serial first-date-only dates, but an actual series of dates with the same man. Now, don't imagine that I am a serial one-night stander. I have a third-date rule. Apparently, he also had a third-date rule, which is nice. Now, today, we had about our eighth or ninth date in about a month. Now don't assume that we pounced on each other as of the fourth date. Don't assume I will tell you anything when it happens, either. I do have some sense of privacy, even here on the net, you know.
So S (to protect the innocent, we will know him as S) took a walking adventure today. This is sort of like the diary one of Nixon's flunkies kept. He refered to Nixon as P.
Anyway, S and I took a walk up the river today. There is a walkway that lets pedestrians walk either outside of or on top of the FDR Drive so you can have some waterfront access. From what I know, it runs continuously from 63rd Street to at least 125th Street. We walked up John Finley Walk, which goes past Gracie Mansion, chaste home of the Mayor and his show wife, Donna Hannover. Then we walked past te wreck of a firehouse pier, and Asphault Green, and up Bobby Wagner walk. Once you get past the "whiter" areas, the rollerbladers and dog walkers thin out, and guys with fishing lines tossed into the East River, sitting under umbrellas and drinking, cooking, hanging out.
At 102nd Street there is a footbridge to Wards Island. It's an interesting footbridge, as it's a thin drawbridge with two high towers that pull up the middle section. This is a dual-purposed design. It allows boats with tall parts to pass through, and for security purposes. They keep the drawbridge up from October to March! Wards Island is connected by landfill, and not ironically, the Department of Sanitation, to Randalls Island. These two islands are convenient. They have successfully combined little league playing fields with a gigantic psychiatric facility, which summarizes how I feel about organized sports.
Anyway, walking from Gracie Mansion to the footbridge, you follow a gentle curve in the water. It's all the more obvious from the footbridge. It's one of those shpectacular (sic) things you will not see in postcard racks or even coffee table books.
Well, in the middle of the water is an odd, pointy island called Mill Rock. It's right there where the Harlem River and the East River meet. Hell Gate is the name of the waterway. The waters churn and this has been the site of many shipwrecks. In Dutch, Hell Gate actually means "beautiful passage" or some such.
It is beautiful there. It's just amazing to be someplace where the horizontal dominates the vertical. It's hard to see the familiar NYC landmarks, until you're on the side of the lower part of Wards Island that faces Queens. When it's a little hazy, it's not even easy to see the World Trade Center.
And so, S and I wandered around Wards Island a bit, but not before sitting along the water and looking over to Queens and seeing how the churning waters make little flecks of gold light when the sun hits it.
And so, S and I sat and talked and had one of those difficult talks you sometimes have to have when you're getting to know someone. Nothing horrible or tawdry or romantic, but revealing nonetheless. Nothing like getting out into nature. We've spent the past few weeks competing with New York City. Noisy restaurants and crowded streets. Even sweet little streets in SoHo, east of Crosby Street, seem to be teaming with loud kids and their cell phones.
Sometimes, I feel a lot like Mill Rock. I feel like this pointy little island buffeted by the churning waters where two currents meet and create a third entity. One of the problems with being reliable, which I unfailingly am, is that it does wear you down, until you also become a pointy rock. It's nice to find a little peaceful place to take some time away from all the urban chaos, and get a chance to really talk.
Getting away from yourself, getting away from everything you know, is a good thing to do now and then. Luckily, New York still has some places that act like a sensory deprivation tank. Not completely, mind you, but close enough.
Later, S went home, I said goodbye to him on the Downtown Local IRT, and I took a nap, and I didn't wake up for five hours, and when I did, it was all thunder and lightening. Tonnore e lampeggia. Donner und Blitzen.
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