The World is Bigger Than Me.

The chatter in my brain had grown to a din. Work was ramping up into an uncontrolled mess. My emotions were spiraling out of control, barely containable. With the pressure around and within, my chest tightened. I felt closed in, trapped. The noise in my head, the ambient sound in the office were asphyxiating me.
Got to get out.
When an opportunity to break came, I ran.
Got to get out.
Jaw clenched, I grabbed my gym bag and headed for the elevator,.
GOT TO GET OUT!
Through the front door.
OUT! Thank goodness out.
I headed west for open air.
I had no intention of hitting the gym. My brain was fried and my body fatigued.
I snagged a sandwich and looked for a sunny, open space.
Settling into the middle area of NYU’s Silver Towers, I found a strip of sun, beaming between two of the buildings.
I sat and ate.
Maybe it was hunger, twisting my insides because damn, the sandwich was good.
The stillness between the towers drowned out the chatter in my head. I gained a momentary peace.
My stomach sated, I turned and faced the sun for a solar recharge.

My heart and thoughts calmed.

The street noise slipped away. I felt the weight of my surroundings, envelope me, bringing me to scale.

“The world is bigger than me.”

This singular thought spoke clearly in my head.

I felt relieved for the moment.
But I’d have to face myself again soon.

Back to Form

“…and now, back to our regularly scheduled emotional state.”

Apologies to my reader(s). If you’re still with me, GREAT. If not, well, there goes my stats.

I haven’t been feeling my sexy, confident self of late. Blogging is a narcissistic exercise (C’mon, let’s not kid ourselves), so without the underpinning of ego, blogging fell by the way side.

I’d been “caught up” in the ebb and flow of my emotions in recent weeks. Punctuated by nice high points, mirrored by lower than low points, mood modulation was a chore. I sucked it up, gritted my teeth and put on a brave face, seething and stewing by myself. Moments of clarity were few and far between.

I’m coming out of this cloud. A big thanks goes to MacBoyX for being an unflinchingly honest, non-judgemental ear and ever-present friend.

So, time permitting, I’ll be getting back to clubbing in NYC, which by the way is taking a pounding these days and not in a good way, robots!, comics or whatever tickles my fancy. The EvilBuddha Life in general.

Stay tuned.

Home

I’m back in NYC. Flying in to JFK late Tuesday night, returning to work (and the gym) on Wednesday, I’ve been settling into a normal, post-summer pace of life.

After a whirlwind trip to SF, it feels good.

Quick SF recap.

The trip was great. I met lots of good people, also attending the “wedding” of K & M. Notably, I discerned that one of them, E, who’d moved out to California two years ago with his wife, had attended junior high school with me in Brooklyn nearly 19 years ago.

Yikes!

Talk about a small world.

We had a lot of fun at K&M's ceremony. It was at Aurobora Press, an art gallery a few blocks walk from our hotel. The ceremony was very sweet and touching.

The BF took over 600 photos on the trip. He’s a menace with a 1gb memory card. I have to sort through the photos and post some.


SF wasn’t too crazy a trip for me.

I spent most of my time resting, fighting chest congestion precipitated by allergies I’m guessing. I went to the doctor first chance I had upon returning to NY. Feeling much better thanks. Not to mention, everytime I drank alcohol I was thrown for a loop. Very strange.

The BF was on a tear, hitting the bars and having a grand old time with our friends. If it wasn’t Midnight Sun, it was Badlands. I could barely tolerate both as I’m NOT a big fan of bars. Badlands was especially tough. They played awful 80s dance music, from Whitney Houston to Dead or Alive. I couldn’t even pretend to enjoy it.

We did manage some dancing (with the bears) at Sanctuary by GusPresents, the party concluding the Harrison Street Fair. The music was only marginally better than Badlands quite honestly. Lots and lots of vocals. Sigh.

Plenty of good eating, in the Castro and about town. All good except for the last night when the BF’s face turned red from what could have been an allergic reaction to something he ate.

Beside all that, a little shopping was in order. I got Ray Ban aviators (more function than fashion for a change) and a Nixon watch, the Dictator.