December 2005 Archives
Transit strike still on. I'm still walking to work. Music is still pretty good (thought I had to forward through "If I Were A Rich Man" from Fiddler on the Roof because I just couldn't get into the groove). Got on the scale this morning after feeling powerful...and gained a pound. WTF? I'm not walking for my damn health, people. I have to be bathing suit ready by the end of April!
I'm unsure if outside the microcosm of the New York City universe, others who dwell at buildings with doormen and building supers are faced with the holiday problems of greasing hands. In NYC, building people must be greased to get things fixed and done throughout the year. The rub in all this is the decision of how much. Obviously, one would suspect there is a direct coorelation between the amount of money one slips the building people and how fast a light-bulb gets changed and while I don't know for sure, I'd think this is true.
In light of this and because Jeff and I are celebrating our first holiday up in Harlem, we were wondering what, if anything, we needed to do for our Super. Once again, we have discovered the benefits to living in Harlem: Cheap rent, good food, and a Super who'll bend steel for us, now that we stuck a red bow on a case of Budweiser and wished him a Merry Christmas. Seriously. We just greased the guy not with a Ben Franklin but with a case of beer. I seriously love our building.
Spring comes early 'cause Johnny is back.
Day two of the power-walk from 116th Street down to 23rd (somewhere between 4.5-5 miles, I estimate). I'm totally into the groove now and being who I am, that means I'm all about the zeal and excitement of something new so I'm declaring myself a walk-to-work EVERY morning kind of guy. Fuck the subways and buses. Those who know me know that this zeal and excitement will actually only last for maybe one more day. That is unless I start seeing some elusive abdominal muscles which would spur me on for maybe an additional day.
Once again, I'm going to also acknowledge my very good taste in music. This whole iPod-set-to-shuffle thing is totally cool. A little Nina Simone with some Zero 7, Brian Eno, Dirty Vegas, peppered throughout the walk and I was the happy guy this morning. I think I'm either high on endorphins or someone slipped me some crystal meth in the coffee because damn if I don't feel like wall-papering the entire office this morning and then doing everyone's hair. WooHOO!
Who isn't put out over the MTA transit strike shutting down all the buses and subways in NYC? I woke this morning to the news the threatened strike was in fact happening. My two contingency plans were reduced quickly to one when the news reported the MetroNorth lines, while unaffected by the strike, had hour-long waits for the trains. "Fuck it," I told Jeff and put on my walking shoes. An hour and twenty minutes later, I'd walked the chilly 93-blocks from Harlem to the hospital, nose running but no worse for wear. Actually, I do incredible strategizing and planning when I'm walking so I accomplished quite a bit AND burned off an additional 300 calories.
Also, I have renewed my belief that I actually have good taste in music. I set my iPod to shuffle which I never do and was completely delighted at almost every song that came up. Damn but I have a lot of Pink Floyd on it. So today, it's all good. Annoying, but all good.
