Stream of New York Consciousness
It is 19:42:19 on 04-24-11 and I am standing on the 1-3 platform at the Harlem Metro North train station. I have a paper to plan, and a paper to research, and a paper to wrap my bulbous head around, and books to read, and projects to finish, and projects I keep saying I’ll finish soon that I still haven’t even started yet. But today it is raining on the train tracks in New York City and I have just come to the realization that I will probably only see this city (my city) two more days before I move across the country, before who knows when I’ll be back again. And I’m hoping my eyes won’t start dripping like those clouds that envelop the city in a blue haze. Blue-grey clouds against yellow-orange lights, the city alive in contrasts and complements. I could compliment it for ages, or at least until 8:03pm, which is when my train leaves.
It is 19:47:50 on 04-24-11 and I am witnessing a light show on the tracks, each raindrop a firework bursting orange on reflective black. In the background, blinking, yellow and red bulbs alternate on a sign on 125th that says, “Look at me!” But it’s so blinding, I’d prefer to look away. The city is alive in sound and texture and I swear if I ever have children they are going to have a CD of soothing music and it’s just going to be the sound of cars driving in the rain – no honking, mind you, just that calming shhhhh like waves on the beaches I trained myself not to like because they were too pastel, too soft, too full of reminders of former life – shells, footprints, washed up driftwood. But the city is always alive. Yeah, my kids will fall asleep to that momentous sound of a bus warming up to cross the street, a plastic bag rustling in the wind (American Beauty style), their father whispering, “But Cordelia, dear, we’re in San Francisco…” I know, man, I know, but they’ve got the blood of a New Yorker in those tiny veins of theirs, and their DNA’s double helix twists round like Broadway and Amsterdam at 72nd street. You know what I mean? I certainly hope you do, or else you’re with the wrong woman.
It is 19:58:02 on 4-24-11 and my train will be here in 5 minutes and I just lied to a homeless man, said, “Sorry, I don’t have any money on me, but happy birthday…” I hate it when I do that, but I can’t give my change away or else I won’t be able to pay for the taxi at the other end of the train. The sun seems to have set, as most suns do on a fairly regular basis, but the sky is still a vibrant muted blue, if something can be vibrant and muted at the same time. Muted from the rain, I guess, but vibrant from all those New York City lights, alive and bursting, like the raindrop fireworks on the train tracks.
