Metropolitan
At a place called The Metropolitan Grill & Bar near the Brooklyn Bridge. I was here once, though I seem to have no memory of the visit.
Maybe I only think I was here, inside, when in fact I stood outside and thought about coming inside. Many times, places and situations in my life could be summarized as such. On the outside looking in, thinking so much about entering that the thoughts fill my mind to overflowing, and my memory gives in to the weight of the anticipation and fills in the experience that I only ever thought about.
Elvis on the jukebox, vagina shaped coasters, waitstaff with thick accents, lots of older people at the tables. I, at the bar, await a turkey burger. (there’s your perfect sentence, Ossip!)
I came to lower Manhattan today to see that waterfall public art thing at the Brooklyn Bridge, and to buy me a whopping 1 Terabyte hard drive at J&R. I saw that J&R has free parking for purchases over $100. Damn, I shoulda brought my car down here. That struck me as hilarious — driving into Manhattan for a quick purchase — a reaction that shows I still can not adjust to having or using a vehicle in this town.
Maybe I should have driven. It would likely have been considerably faster than the subway, which got stuck underground at Canal Street for nearly a half hour. The conductor dude mumbled into the public address system that there was “an emergency” on the train. Good thing I didn’t care.
Anyway… Who cares. Who does care?
I have lived in New York over 17 years but these days, the past few weeks, I feel the same as I did the day I stepped off the Amtrak Train in late October, 1990. I don’t feel like I am starting over . It’s nothing like that. It’s the same sort of lucidity as I had back then, if that makes any sense. My mind feels like it hass woken up inside a different body.
I will now stare this turkey burger into existence.
