Another Day, Just Like The Last
Current mood:
melancholy
I toss. I turn. I watch the telly but, I get no release. Mr. Sandman does not slip into my room and take me to dreamland. I drift off only to startle myself awake again and again, ready to go. Go where? I don't know. I get up, use the loo and then stumble down the hallway to the kitchen to get a fresh cold bottle of water. I use Atlantic City tap, always have. It's the best in the country, years and years of taste tests have proven this assertion but, I don't need tests. I grew up here, I know it's the best. The famous New Jersey Pinelands provide us with an aquifer unrivaled by those "mountain streams" that you see touted on those packaged bottles. Even in times of regional drought, we never go thirsty. We never want for crisp, clean, delicious water. There is a reason why we are called "the garden state".
I go back to my room, once again banging into the door frame. I haven't a clue why I can not seem to gauge distances anymore. I bang into walls, door jambs, tables, chairs all the time. I think to myself, "I can walk around the Studio Six in the dark and never fall, never hit a barstool or wall, always know where and when to lift my foot for a step, all of this incompleat darkness but at home, I still, STILL, bang into things." I fall back onto the bed, moving around the too many pillows I have to make a comfy nest and curl back up, waiting for slumber to finally arrive.
I never set my alarm because...well...I have no need to. I drifted back and forth from sleep and finally, regrettably, get up with the mounting light in the sky, thick with heavy clouds. I turn on the morning news and watch the handsome newpeople tell me the events of the day before and the "THIS JUST IN" stories that they feel I need to know RIGHT NOW! I watch the Philadelphia news because, I just can't bring myself to watch our local news. It's akin to a high school A.V. club putting together a fake broadcast in order to be graded on it. Believe me, NBC NewsChannel 40 would get nothing more than a C- on a (very) good broadcasting day. I do love that our little "mayor" problem has made the news all over the world. As long as Atlantic City is mentioned, it's a good thing, I guess.
I begin to watch the morning shows and decide that I'd rather kill myself so, I get myself showered, dressed, pack up my little shoulder bag with a book, mp.3 player and a data disk of Cafe entries and photos among the other things I like to have with me on my jaunts and off I go, down the streets of the city and up onto the boardwalk. The sun comes flooding out of the storm laden skies, promising a beautiful, if windy, day. I haven't been up on the boards at this early hour for quite some time. At least not from this end, meaning the I-just-got-up instead of the I'm-on-my-way-home end. The shop owners are just arriving, putting out their wares, rolling up the security doors, drinking a big cup ofStarbucks/Dunkin Donuts/Wawa coffee. There are municipal lorries and police cars, driving slowly down the boardwalk, doing whatever it is that they are doing. I notice a truck from the Army Corps. of Engineers is parked by Bally's Casino and some of the "corps." are there with strange equipment walking out onto the dunes that are supposed to save our beaches, although if the oceans rise with the melting polar ice, we'll need to save more than sand. It all looks high-tech so, I stop and watch for a minute. I quickly realize that I haven't a clue what they are doing so, I duck into a shop and get some fresh-out-of-the-oven soft pretzels. Did you know that we eat more pretzels in the Delaware Valley than the rest of the country...combined? I did.
I get to the club offices and see Tiffany. She's finishing up the closing of the office, shredding paperwork, getting the various services shut off, the deliveries ended, packing up the financial statements, stealing the leftover alcohol (kidding!), whatever one does when one closes a business. I am just there to use the computer since it's still hooked up to the Internet. We talk about our future plans, gossip about the club closing and such. She tells me nothing new, well, nothing I didn't already suspect. She didn't know what was happening until maybe an hour before they shut the doors but, she did have an inkling that something was amiss. I mean, she does our day-to-day operations so she saw the writing on the wall. But she, like all of us, was still surprised that we shut so abruptly. I was trying to get her to pop open a bottle of champagne but, it was a bit too early and we didn't have orange juice for a proper mimosa.
I surf my MySpace, I check out this site and that. I go to "Homestar Runner", my mostfavourite Internet cartoon and laugh my head off at the recent "Strongbad Emails". It takes a certain kind of humour to enjoy Homestar Runner and his merry gang. As I am sitting there in the office, Tiffany deletes the Studio Six MySpace page. Before she does, though, she laughingly remarked that people were still requesting to be a friend of the Studio Six. Imagine that. I quickly go to my MySpace friends and delete the Studio Six from my roster. The Studio page was the first "friend" I had listed. I set her up with an account on AOL so she can have access to the Cafe. Hi Tiffany! Welcome. You'll find some juicy gossip in here!
I decide that I need to get the hell out of there, it's just too depressing, as much as I love her. I am tempted to run over to the club, just to see what they have done but, I realize my memories should remain the way they are, when my life was intact. I leave the office and notice the streets are full of water from a recent rain shower. That's funny, I think, the skies are cloudy but, the sun is out as well. I begin my walk home by going through the casinos and by the time I make it through them and travel past Boardwalk Hall (did you know it was the largest building without any central roof supports in the world for decades after it was built? I did) when the clouds darkened the skies and the rain began pouring down. It was incredible, the water just came down in torrents. I found an overhang and stood under it, soon joined by several shoobies, and we waited out the storm together. Once the winds blew the rain cloud away, I began my travels again only to have to find shelter once more after I passed the Tropicana Casino. Only this time, although the rain came down again in buckets, the sun was shining like a beautiful summer day. It was very, very odd. I did stand there, looking up, watching the water droplets as they fell from the sky, each reflecting the sun and sparkling like diamonds as they fell to earth. It was magical. Soon, though, the deluge turned to a light drizzle and I finished my walk down the now slick and reflective boardwalk to my penthouse, putting on my rain beaded sunglasses as I walked.
I get home and putter around the flat, trying to decide what to do with myself. I amslowly, and I mean SLOWLY, going through things again, A box here, a drawer there. I am trying to shed this skin and start anew. I like that analogy.
After my afternoon living-room-library session, spent watching the skies rapidly change from rain clouds to sun to clouds again through the front windows and reading a fascinating book called "What Are The Seven Wonders of the World?" (It's a compendium of lists, starting with groups of three like, "What are Newton's three laws of motion?" , and, "What are the names of the three Furies?" then it builds from there. Who are the four horsemen, what are the five pillars of Islam and so forth), I gathered my strength and got changed into my gym clothes and made my way to the gym. The winds of change were intense and I had forgotten how hard it is to pedal a bike around the island under these conditions. It was like going uphill the entire way. By the time I make it to the gym, I am worn out. I see some new faces, new "gym boyfriends" to avoid eye-contact with. Along with all my other problems, I must confess that I am in serious need of some intense human contact, and not just a friendly hug and peck on the cheek. I want to tumble for somebody, bad! I find myself staring longer than is socially acceptable so I concentrate on my workouts and the mirror. "Hey, I don't look so bad myself", I think, as I check out the V-shape I am seriously sporting.
The drive home was great, the winds that blew hindered my progress to the gym are now behind me and I fly back down the mile stretch and through Chelsea Heights. I make a snap decision and stop by to see my father and step-mother to tell them the news in person about my recent troubles. They were too happy to see me although a bit distressed about my situation. I told them about the new club. I raided their ice-box. I sat an chatted with them and then made my leave.
After my protein shake and a great dinner of Mommie Dearest's leftovers, I watched a little telly and, once again...
I go back to my room, once again banging into the door frame. I haven't a clue why I can not seem to gauge distances anymore. I bang into walls, door jambs, tables, chairs all the time. I think to myself, "I can walk around the Studio Six in the dark and never fall, never hit a barstool or wall, always know where and when to lift my foot for a step, all of this incompleat darkness but at home, I still, STILL, bang into things." I fall back onto the bed, moving around the too many pillows I have to make a comfy nest and curl back up, waiting for slumber to finally arrive.
I never set my alarm because...well...I have no need to. I drifted back and forth from sleep and finally, regrettably, get up with the mounting light in the sky, thick with heavy clouds. I turn on the morning news and watch the handsome newpeople tell me the events of the day before and the "THIS JUST IN" stories that they feel I need to know RIGHT NOW! I watch the Philadelphia news because, I just can't bring myself to watch our local news. It's akin to a high school A.V. club putting together a fake broadcast in order to be graded on it. Believe me, NBC NewsChannel 40 would get nothing more than a C- on a (very) good broadcasting day. I do love that our little "mayor" problem has made the news all over the world. As long as Atlantic City is mentioned, it's a good thing, I guess.
I begin to watch the morning shows and decide that I'd rather kill myself so, I get myself showered, dressed, pack up my little shoulder bag with a book, mp.3 player and a data disk of Cafe entries and photos among the other things I like to have with me on my jaunts and off I go, down the streets of the city and up onto the boardwalk. The sun comes flooding out of the storm laden skies, promising a beautiful, if windy, day. I haven't been up on the boards at this early hour for quite some time. At least not from this end, meaning the I-just-got-up instead of the I'm-on-my-way-home end. The shop owners are just arriving, putting out their wares, rolling up the security doors, drinking a big cup ofStarbucks/Dunkin Donuts/Wawa coffee. There are municipal lorries and police cars, driving slowly down the boardwalk, doing whatever it is that they are doing. I notice a truck from the Army Corps. of Engineers is parked by Bally's Casino and some of the "corps." are there with strange equipment walking out onto the dunes that are supposed to save our beaches, although if the oceans rise with the melting polar ice, we'll need to save more than sand. It all looks high-tech so, I stop and watch for a minute. I quickly realize that I haven't a clue what they are doing so, I duck into a shop and get some fresh-out-of-the-oven soft pretzels. Did you know that we eat more pretzels in the Delaware Valley than the rest of the country...combined? I did.
I get to the club offices and see Tiffany. She's finishing up the closing of the office, shredding paperwork, getting the various services shut off, the deliveries ended, packing up the financial statements, stealing the leftover alcohol (kidding!), whatever one does when one closes a business. I am just there to use the computer since it's still hooked up to the Internet. We talk about our future plans, gossip about the club closing and such. She tells me nothing new, well, nothing I didn't already suspect. She didn't know what was happening until maybe an hour before they shut the doors but, she did have an inkling that something was amiss. I mean, she does our day-to-day operations so she saw the writing on the wall. But she, like all of us, was still surprised that we shut so abruptly. I was trying to get her to pop open a bottle of champagne but, it was a bit too early and we didn't have orange juice for a proper mimosa.
I surf my MySpace, I check out this site and that. I go to "Homestar Runner", my mostfavourite Internet cartoon and laugh my head off at the recent "Strongbad Emails". It takes a certain kind of humour to enjoy Homestar Runner and his merry gang. As I am sitting there in the office, Tiffany deletes the Studio Six MySpace page. Before she does, though, she laughingly remarked that people were still requesting to be a friend of the Studio Six. Imagine that. I quickly go to my MySpace friends and delete the Studio Six from my roster. The Studio page was the first "friend" I had listed. I set her up with an account on AOL so she can have access to the Cafe. Hi Tiffany! Welcome. You'll find some juicy gossip in here!
I decide that I need to get the hell out of there, it's just too depressing, as much as I love her. I am tempted to run over to the club, just to see what they have done but, I realize my memories should remain the way they are, when my life was intact. I leave the office and notice the streets are full of water from a recent rain shower. That's funny, I think, the skies are cloudy but, the sun is out as well. I begin my walk home by going through the casinos and by the time I make it through them and travel past Boardwalk Hall (did you know it was the largest building without any central roof supports in the world for decades after it was built? I did) when the clouds darkened the skies and the rain began pouring down. It was incredible, the water just came down in torrents. I found an overhang and stood under it, soon joined by several shoobies, and we waited out the storm together. Once the winds blew the rain cloud away, I began my travels again only to have to find shelter once more after I passed the Tropicana Casino. Only this time, although the rain came down again in buckets, the sun was shining like a beautiful summer day. It was very, very odd. I did stand there, looking up, watching the water droplets as they fell from the sky, each reflecting the sun and sparkling like diamonds as they fell to earth. It was magical. Soon, though, the deluge turned to a light drizzle and I finished my walk down the now slick and reflective boardwalk to my penthouse, putting on my rain beaded sunglasses as I walked.
I get home and putter around the flat, trying to decide what to do with myself. I amslowly, and I mean SLOWLY, going through things again, A box here, a drawer there. I am trying to shed this skin and start anew. I like that analogy.
After my afternoon living-room-library session, spent watching the skies rapidly change from rain clouds to sun to clouds again through the front windows and reading a fascinating book called "What Are The Seven Wonders of the World?" (It's a compendium of lists, starting with groups of three like, "What are Newton's three laws of motion?" , and, "What are the names of the three Furies?" then it builds from there. Who are the four horsemen, what are the five pillars of Islam and so forth), I gathered my strength and got changed into my gym clothes and made my way to the gym. The winds of change were intense and I had forgotten how hard it is to pedal a bike around the island under these conditions. It was like going uphill the entire way. By the time I make it to the gym, I am worn out. I see some new faces, new "gym boyfriends" to avoid eye-contact with. Along with all my other problems, I must confess that I am in serious need of some intense human contact, and not just a friendly hug and peck on the cheek. I want to tumble for somebody, bad! I find myself staring longer than is socially acceptable so I concentrate on my workouts and the mirror. "Hey, I don't look so bad myself", I think, as I check out the V-shape I am seriously sporting.
The drive home was great, the winds that blew hindered my progress to the gym are now behind me and I fly back down the mile stretch and through Chelsea Heights. I make a snap decision and stop by to see my father and step-mother to tell them the news in person about my recent troubles. They were too happy to see me although a bit distressed about my situation. I told them about the new club. I raided their ice-box. I sat an chatted with them and then made my leave.
After my protein shake and a great dinner of Mommie Dearest's leftovers, I watched a little telly and, once again...
I toss. I turn.
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