04/25/25

 7:25 pm

    A dazzling watercolor of hot pinks and dark purples. Gliding through the streets of the West Village, taking glances as I rode by the masses of people on the streets enjoying the warm spring air and looking up in awe at the first truly beautiful sunset of the season. I wanted to be in one of the bustling restaurants. I wanted to be with someone.

    I kept on towards the West Side Highway, entering the bike path. The river water undulated in a vibrant slurry, reflecting the striking pink and orange horizon. Myself, the people I passed by, and those who passed by me—we had all been suffused by the marmalade sky.

    I crossed to the east side at 59th. The warm air was comforting. The ride was smooth. I was firing on all cylinders with only two miles left to spare on my bikes meter. The limestone buildings running the length of Fifth Avenue shone bright-white against the sapphire sky. Windows gleamed with the night, my reflection rippled within them as I rode past. Marigolds in bloom radiated a fluorescent glow. Each scene I breezed by was intertwined with the rhythmic delirium coming through my headphones. An organically crafted playlist of songs that, earlier in the day, had played seamlessly while I listened to my discover station. Synergistically, one after another. All culminating in the unbroken sound of Animal Collective’s Merriweather Post Pavilion.

    Over the weekend I sat in my windowsill, listening to the album in full for the first time in a long time. I listened and thought of nothing at all except that it was hot and that the trees that line the street and the edge of Central Park that I could see from my window, had all become green before my eyes. Suddenly it was spring. The heat comes quickly. One day it’s winter and one day it’s not and then suddenly it’s summer. Over and over.

    I found a dock around 72nd and walked to meet H for dinner.

    He had already arrived about an hour earlier. When I arrived, the Friday night crowd had begun to spill out of the entrance and onto the sidewalk. I walked in to find H in the middle of the bar ordering a fresh beer from the Popeye-esque bartender. H got up and I sat, my feet sore from the day. I ordered the same.

    Two seats opened up at the end of the bar. With our good rapport, the bartender moved us, cutting off the two people that had been hovering over the soon-to-be-vacant seats. I felt bad but in my starved state I couldn’t be more grateful for receiving this bit of favoritism. That being said, the end of the bar facing into the restaurant and right next to the door, was not my ideal. The area is cramped with the constant influx and efflux of patrons. I preferred to be closer to the jukebox. I chalked it up to the balance of karma.

    While waiting for our food we overheard the frazzled new take-out girl earnestly maintaining a cheery demeanor despite the clear string of mistakes she had been making since we moved near her post. If I had turned around to look at her I wouldn’t have been surprised to see a young girl as sweet looking as a fawn. I rooted for her in my head.

    I took a sip of my ice cold drink, then a sip of warm decaf coffee. A bite of chocolate cake. And another sip of coffee. There was the obscured sound of the Rolling Stones peeking through the clattering and clamor. I could feel the cooling air through the open door. I could feel warmth from the kitchen window. Cold then hot then cold. Comforting.

    Popeye the bartender reassured the girl after another mistake. Sweet fawn.

    Outside, I lit up a cigarette in an open space of street, defended against oncoming traffic by a protruding construction site. I stared into the glowing neon sign reading: J.G. Melon. 

    H came out and we shared the cigarette. Cars raced by. I was hypnotized by the beautiful phosphorescence.

    The stress of the week was washed away by our perfect conditions. When you know the bartender, and the server, and the doorman, and you eat a delicious meal. When your feet no longer hurt and your lover kisses you on the street. When a taxi arrives at the moment you want it. When you listen to a song together. When the song is perfect.

Playlist

Harlem Nocturn - Illinois Jacquet

Fence no Aru Ie - OGRE YOU ASSHOLE

Headlights Look Like Diamonds - Arcade Fire

Did You See The Words - Animal Collective

Three Rings - Grizzly Bear

Pantomime - WJSN

My Girls - Animal Collective

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