July 2005 Archives

At the pizza shop.

I tried to escape the heat and humidity today by heading out to the Astoria Pool. After a long walk over baking asphalt and sidewalks, I finally arrived at my urban oasis destination and I was turned away at the door by the city parks attendant. He explained that I needed a lock for the lockers in order to enter. Damn it. I made the best of a bad situation and laid out in the field to catch some sun. It was a nice time out from the busy hustle and bustled of the day to day. I drank a beer that some nice Samaritan fellas gave me and after a few hours of sun, I said goodbye to the friendly locals and went for a slice of pizza. Mmm, pizza.

I later went and hung out with some friends and watched them filming a short film. It was fun, interesting, and took way too long to end. But, we all had a good time, and a whole lot of laughs. We drank beer and ate pizza. Mmm, pizza

I then headed to a bar and had more beer. After about two hours, I called it a night and guess what I saw on the corner. A pizza shop and so, I helped myself to a slice. I got home in time to get four hours of sleep, before heading to work and the heat of pizza ovens.

Mmm, pizza.

I took this picture at Astoria Park with my Cannon Digital Elph.
I love the bluish-greenish feel to this picture.

No, it’s not photoshoped.

It was so hot that the petals on most of the flowers were sagging in the
weltering heat.

When in Rome, do as the Romans do.

Random shots at a deli in Little Italy.

Have a safe trip Piotr. See you then.
This picture is much better dont you think?

I wake up with a startled jump on the train, a stop before mine. I look around hoping that no one noticed me but people around me did and they quickly look away and pretend to be caught up in their own moment. My jaws hurt because in my short subway nap, stress resulted in the involuntary grinding of my teeth. I stand up half heartedly, not wanting to risk falling back in to sleep and missing my stop. I walk to the corner store after getting off the train and contemplate spending seven dollars on a pack of cigarettes, my newest vice to help deal with the anxiety of the present. I open my door and walk into an empty apartment that I can no longer afford. I find solace in a cheap bottle of wine and a feline that has no one else in the world except for an ever busy caretaker desperately trying to maintain what little they both have. Fermented aged grapes and a soft pelt do little to dispel the hardships of a day of invisibility. I fill glass after glass of water; wipe down the tables in between their courses, with hardly a look of acknowledgement or a thank you. I play the role, the help. The Hispanic boy with the Salvation Army bought polyester slacks, which will walk away tonight, after ten hours, with forty-one dollars worth of gratuity for a job well done. I turn on the shower and wait for the water to become hot enough to open up my pores and wash away a day past and soon relived. I dry myself off, while looking in the mirror wondering what has become of me and how long it will all last. I gulp down the first glass of red. Hurriedly in search of that place where one begins to forget and sleep becomes easier but I know that it will be several hours before I find that much needed calmness. I chain smoke. I turn on my computer and check for emails, comments, and the total number of hits for the day on my site. I have emails from London, Madrid, New York, California and a total of 139 hits. I smile at the only reminder that today I’ve been remembered and yet here I stand alone, fitting a battle, lacking a shield, will, my only sword. I call upon God and ancestors and ask them what more is there for me to learn from this lesson. How hard will I need to fall before I am allowed to pick myself up again? I frown and thank them for the lesson. I have a second glass of wine and a third, perhaps a fourth, cigarette. I take deep long pulls in between sips of sauvignon. An hour has past but there is still another glass or two to acquaint. If I attempt sleep now, waves of worry will erode tranquility. I pick up my phone and scroll its address book thinking of souls that might be awake and interested enough to entertain conversation, forgetting that I am completely disconnected and all my lines of service were cut of a week ago. It has been a week and a half now since I speak to family and I wonder if they are worried. Tomorrow, I will buy a calling card and assure them that all is well. I know that I will lie and tell my mother that a great job is in the middle of negotiation and that everything is going well. I am too embarrassed to express my hardship and lack the humility to ask for assistance. Everyday, I worry that I will soon show up at my family’s door with a U-haul parked outside and a look of shame upon my face. Where else would I go? What else is there to do?

At work eating some chocolate ice cream. ummmm

Me and Alex acting retarded.
(You might remember him from Raising Victor Vargas. He had the best line:
"Which one of ya want it in the booty." ha-ha, classic)