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Fall Night, Canal Street

Work has become stressful beyond belief, with so much to do, and no concept that I can actually do it all in any reasonable amount of time. Friday night, after 9, and after Princess Superstar, I finally decided to fuck work and get the hell out. I walked by Sal the security guard in the lobby, sour as always, but always there. Then, onwards to the 6 train.

As I emerged at Canal Street, my eyes tearing from stress, weariness, and an abject lack of sleep, the cold crisp fall air reminded me of why I wanted to leave California. I missed seasons. My fancy new scarf warmed me, and my trusty (if not hip) black leather jacket comforted me. Fall has arrived.

The external change of weather brings about an internal change for me: I transition in and out of ways of being. It's odd to say, with my world traveling, and insane social life (remember September?), but I feel like I'm emerging from a turtle-shell of hiding, and am ready to see the world in a whole new light. *deep breath of cold air*

Side note: Why is it that as it gets cold, and would be a sensible time to start nesting, do I start exploring, heading out into the world, in so many ways? I guess since I became an adult, I've not done anything quite normal. bah, normalcy. whatever.

I ventured down Canal street, past Lafayette to Baxter and scores of Vietnamese restaraunts. I had no idea they were all here!! I found Nha Trang with a friendly sign (thanks Nelson!) and well lit tables, full of locals & hipsters alike. Since I fear an idle mind, or an unoccupied moment (thanks dad! gotta stay busy!) I bought the current issue of Forbes, which I *never* read, and started to read. Tasty hot, steamy, rich smells & flavours arrived in my Pho Ga, and tangy sweetness in the spring rolls (get the fresh lemonade, too!) fillet my pallete. Stress started to roll off of me the moment that I started to suck in the familar, missed, long noodles.

Little did I expect that at this point, I'd be reading about the intracies of marijuana cultivation and the fiscal implications of the drug trade in Forbes, all while eating Pho!! Then, better than a movie script, since real life never ever ceases to amaze me, the stereo in this downstairs, chinatown vietnamese restaraunt starts to play Bob Marley's _Legend_, from start to finish. <*grin*>

Then, my pocket starts to vibrate. *yay* Phone call! 32:53 later, I've lifted someone else's spirits, thus reblancing the karmic debt that Greg has given me earlier in the night. Without Greg, I'd still be at the office, puling my hair out, but instead, I'm on a cold New York alley, with tall limetone buildings on one side, and craggy red-brick above my head. Only after the call ends do I realise that my left hand is numb from holding the phone. Somehow, my attention completely devoted, I lost track of reality.

I don't ever want to go to bed.