08/01/24

    I took my time at the gym since I had nowhere to be. When I stepped back out into Soho, the heat was still intense. I deigned to go into the subway. I raced a guy to the last electric Citibike on Lafayette and threw my bag into the basket, acting as if I didn’t see him. We locked eyes and exchanged looks. I hopped on and rode off, turning on East 4th and making my way to the West Side Highway.

Flying through the West Village, crossing the highway, and reaching the Hudson, a sight so blinding stopped me. I dismounted to take it in. The sun, glowing hot and looming just above the horizon; the size of it in the sky made the high-rises across the river look like toys. Joggers and bikers continued on their way. The crowds of people basking on every inch of grass looked on. 

    I rode a bit further. Past the Little Island and past Chelsea Piers, watching the sunset as I went up the bike path. I stopped again when I saw the sun had been dyed red. I watched it slip down; this was the first time I felt I could actually see the motion of the setting sun. A sky the color of peaches.

    It occurred to me that only hot people run on the West Side Highway. 

    Reverie over, I continued my ride up north.

    Gliding through the darkened streets of the Upper West Side I reached the park and inhaled the crisp aroma of foliage. The air had cooled. I pushed forward with five miles of charge remaining on the bike. Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue blared its climax in my headphones.

    At home I ate a late snack of strawberries in Greek yogurt and I rented The Great Gatsby, the one with Leonardo DiCaprio. I reminisced about when I first saw the movie in theaters. High and with my best friend. We were amazed. In my memory, we were the only ones in the theater. At that time we would smoke weed and go see movies every weekend. I reminisced further, about my senior prom. When again, I was high and the boy I had a crush on arrived on the rooftop, string lights hanging overhead, in a creamsicle-colored suit with matching top hat. I told him he looked just like Gatsby. But now in this moment, the movie is remarkably bad. Beautiful costuming, atrocious visual effects, completely manic pacing, terrible acting. It almost feels like Baz Luhrmann is making fun of the book. It’s the perfect movie to watch high—slows it down, you can appreciate the over-the-topness, but I no longer do that.

    Going to the movies isn’t the same anymore. I miss my best friend. 

Playlist

Rhapsody in Blue - George Gershwin

Young And Beautiful - Lana Del Rey

Tokata i fuga u d-molu, BWV 565 - Anđelko Klobučar

Fine Whine - A$AP Rocky

What if it Doesn’t - Secret B

Are You Even Real? - James Blake

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