2011-05-23 - 1:50 p.m.
Bike ride: work corduroys rolled up to the knees, pumping, flying around the loop, and then rain. At first: just some spray on my glasses, some of it sneaking around the lenses, making me squint. Then: harder rain, the cars next to me flapping their wipers, and so I put the top of my head into the wind. There is nothing at all in the world like the feeling of driven rain against your bare head while traveling 25 miles per hour. You can hear it, from the outside, but also from the inside, from inside your skull. The head is both drum and audience. It is concussive.
Back from a New York weekend. Holy shit, that city. Exhilarating and exhausting. My feet hurt, from the walking. The Empire State Building, so tall that a cloud swallows the spiked antenna at the top. The Brooklyn Bridge bicyclists weaving in and out of the thousands. A Scottish restaurant, with Rob Roys and a drink called a Blood and Sand, and a tab for six of us that made me embarrassed. Subway station: an old blind Chinese man playing a simple stringed instrument as the monstrously loud express train roars by, the man never stopping, just playing, though no one could hear.
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