Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Walk-on Sentence

Yesterday I intended to go to the gym after work but instead found myself walking past the subway station to check out the bunch of tweens and paparazzi in front of the Trump SoHo waiting for Christina Aguilera to surface (can we call this groundhogging? When a celebrity shows face?), and then past a further subway station too, and then up and over this weird overpass near Laight street and then down Canal for a while, and then I gave up and gave in and decided to walk back to Brooklyn over the Williamsburg bridge instead of fucking with an elliptical for an hour, so I walked over past Ferrara’s because I love the sign, and then I thought about how I have this goal to eat at all of Little Italy’s cheeseball restaurants but I’ve yet to try any, and then I walked past this empty storefront that used to be this avant garde clothing store that made me wonder how it stayed in business literally every time I passed by and now I know the answer was “it can’t,” and then had this great ex-fat moment where I saw a sign that started C-R-E-A and assumed it was "creampuff," believed so hard it was "creampuff," realized it was "creative" and believed it was interesting creampuffs, and felt intensely let down when it was Creative Signs, which was disappointing all the way past those little cheapo clothing stores on Delancey by the bridge, the Manhattan cousins to every store on Knickerbocker, where I felt anxious at the specter of a summer with cropped shirts all the raging, and then up and over the bridge which was treacherously icy in parts but also really pretty when the lights came on, but I couldn't dwell because I was in this sort of weird unspoken race with a girl walking at nearly the same pace as me but I totally passed her on the down slope and she was out of sight by the time I hit that spot where you’re eye-level with the gym on the second floor of a building in South Williamsburg, just north of Broadway, near where I exited the bridge and walked to buy frozen green beans for lunch and green apples for snacks, and had my customary battle in the grocery store bakery aisle about whether or not to purchase an eat an entire loaf of Italian bread on the way to Sam’s house as I occasionally secretly do, but didn’t, and because I won this battle and also managed not to freeze, I ate a celebratory bowl of Trix and watched some game shows and called it a decent journey for a Tuesday.

Today, though, I think I saw Eric Clapton.

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