The New York Saga Continues.

So I'm staying in Brooklyn, and working in Manhattan. The first week I was there working, I was staying at Vivian and Greg's place, which was a tiny bachelor suite, that, no word of a lie, was about 150 square feet. That's it. I was sleeping on an air mattress that was having a hard time staying inflated, and working about 16 hour days, every day, editing literature, writing newspaper articles, making long distance phone calls from the Manhattan office to Toronto, Montreal and Vancouver, where the three chapters of my organization were located in Canada. The fact that my air mattress didn't stay inflated mattered naught to me, I was so bagged that before my head hit the pillow at ten pm, I was out until six am the next morning. my body clock was so screwed from travelling across the US in three weeks, that it didn't know what time it was, other than "Now is the time to sleep" and "Your alarm clock is going off. Get the hell up."

I took the subway with Viv most mornings, and one day she had to get to work earlier than I did. (She was the assistant to the treasurer of the organization.) So I was on my own, and I assured her that I was "just fine" finding my way there on my own. Sure, Linds. Sure.

I get on the train, which was about three blocks from Viv and Greg's apartment, and I know that I have to transfer. At that point in time, New York was going through one of the biggest, Hottest heatwaves in existance, and I can assure you that going into the subways during a scorching heat wave, is like descending into the seven levels of hell. The air is stagnant, unbelievably hot, and reeked of garbage. The sky was a murky brown orange colour, from the pollution, and from the clouds that hung low and heavy over the city. I didn't know what that betokened, and soon found out.

I got off at my station, after transferring trains, and bewildered and lost, (which is odd for me, I usually have my sense of direction down pat) I looked around. I can honestly admit, that I was pretty terrified, being in one of the biggest, busiest cities in the world, during rush hour. walking along, wearing shorts and a t shirt, I was hesitant to ask the locals the right direction to go to get to my street, but did anyways. I didn't know that to some locals, it's a game to direct the people that are obvious tourists the wrong way. I don't hold a grudge on it though, because what happened next, was lovely.

The skies opened up, and water just started DUMPING down on my head. The smell of cement, that had been dry, begging for water for weeks, is an unmistakable smell. It's actually one I quite like. So I'm walking down the Italian district, towards the Village, and the smell of cement getting wet is pervasive, all around me. I finally found my work, after recognizing the area, and I was soaked to the skin. I was grinning like an idiot, and was actually singing in the rain. How cliche.

To this day, the smell of wet cement reminds me of New York.

The song up on the server right now is "Manic Star", by Conjure One. Great designing music.