There was no lunch today. Around lunch time, I was sitting across the table from a very fast speaking, smart, tripple alpha guy (no, not alone). He made one of those double twirls in the air with his index fingers asking:"Where is my lunch?"
After the day had entered the atmosphere, pulled by some gravity of maybe time, I sat down in a nice leather-and-chrome chair by the giant window and stared at the Empire State Building. It illuminated the dense cloud around it in a Rosh Hashanah blue.
The iPod billboard over Herald Square was as yellow and black as the Nikon billboard before it in that same spot.
I wanted to take a picture of the Empire State Building. The reflections of the bright lights inside made the landmark appear as if it also were sitting here, right behind me, insignificant: a projection onto a space below the lowered office ceiling. I held up some black presentation board to lock myself out of this reflection game, I wanted to pretend I was outside. It almost worked. Then it was just me, leaning onto the glass, holding my hand as if I wanted to protect the flame of a giant candle from going off.
"Good luck with whatever you are attempting to do there, Sir," said the guy at my credit card security department, when I called them again to announce that I had decided to buy yet another handsome little piece of art. I have no idea what I am attempting to do. I read in the Nokia press release (it was for their new nokia.com/art website,) that art is one of the oldest forms of connecting people. I am sorry... I actually think I am in love.
The framer called me to tell me that I should maybe try to make a new appointment with him next week. My feeling is that what he was telling me in his Japanese politeness was that he is never going to speak with me again.
But I did not have lunch today. There was no time for leaving the man with twirling fingers and to run out to chelsea... oh it does not matter.
I had an apple. I am allergic to apples, but I had one anyway. (I think I am actually allergic to the chemicals on and under the apple's skin.) It was around 9pm, after I had managed to reply to the emails that burned little holes into my inbox. I had the apple in one of the nicer kitchens. The fruit was one of the free apples, sent in by a vendor, just to announce that their technology now also works on... macintosh. I managed not to cut myself when splitting the thing in to what my grandfather used to call "little soldiers". I completely forgot about the blade when cleaning it. The blade never forgets that it is a really sharp thing. My thumb will now not forget the sharpness of the blade either.
It was in the same kitchen where just yesterday boiling water burst out of one of those especially labeled faucets, straight onto my left hand. (Oh and I did not drop the cup.) I only burned two fingers. It was nice to keep them in ice for an hour or so. No blisters.
And I would like to be somewhere far away from here right now. I would really love to just forget all of the above. I would really like to just even forget time differences and just be there. My eyes would probably be half closed. And it would be really beautiful and warm. And it would be perfectly beautiful.
And maybe it would be windy. And maybe the sky would be gigantic.
Maybe we would be closer to it. Yes definitely.
"It's so warm down there, like butter cream. So warm..." the train was pulling into the station as I barely managed to get onto page 9 of the book I now decided to read to somehow glue together that open chest cavity of mine.
There was no lunch today. And why would I even complain. Things are amazing. Things are amazing... things. Thoughts are beautiful... thoughts.
Things are amazing... things.
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This page contains a single entry by Witold published on September 17, 2004 11:46 PM.
Just a brief glimpse at indentations of leaves as a reminder of autumns past and future. was the previous entry in this blog.
as mentioned before... is the next entry in this blog.
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Regarding timezones, I'll broker a suggestion from S - “the Atlantic is overrated. Let's get rid of it; then you'd only be as far as Halifax."
It's weird reading your observations backward; like watching memento for the 1st time but starting halfway through. Vague connections that only exist in hindsight.
Anyway, your pictures make me think of all the moments in blade runner in my memory. The slow fading blue of memory. The chris marker la jetee method of memory. The slow movements in benjamin britten's frank bridge piece. The inbetween bits in loveless & the tremolo ep. The heat trails from my thoughts of S. The buckling drone of a cello adrift in space.
Anything to make this overcast manx day less dreary