Train is delayed today. I'm third-way through Jackyl's "Headed For Destruction" (Woodstock '94 -- Jackyl was there?) as I'm up at 31st. I realize that I push harder in the winter to get out of the cold faster. It's summer and though I'll be late today it's due to circumstances beyond my control and I won't go all out to make up the time, especially since I'll be more than pulling my own weight for the next few weeks.
"Freak Momma" by Sir Mix-A-Lot & Mudhoney is taking me toward the first leg of the trip as I skip to the median at the WSH. Yes, between this song and the previous one I still seem to think it's 1994.
I have plenty of time to beat the northbound traffic. I'm now 300 pages deep into Catch-22 and the theme I'm picking up on most is that you can talk your way in and out of anything. No matter what side of the argument you're on, you have valid intellectual points but wrong moral standings.
You are out there. If I am the I, then you are the you and I can see you any way I want to. You're the cretin. You're the one taking the credit for my work. You're the one who picked up and left. You're the one I am out there to destroy. You are the dollar, the cent, the air, the heat, the hate and the longing. With every ride and every run and every lift I am defeating you and making you look yourself in the mirror and I will make you turn on yourself. I will destroy you with meager accomplishments and move on to the next apparition--
Some guy in the bike suit just got too close for comfort. I yell out but he keeps going. I am not standing for such affrontery today. I try to catch up with him and I make good progress but I cannot keep up the pace (everything I've got and then some, plus I'd have to lose the baggage) and I see he's on a full-size bike and he's got a rhythm and I despise him more for it.
Tracks from Ministry's Cover Up take me the rest of the way. "Roadhouse Blues," "Radar Love" and "Bang A Gong" do the job. They take these songs and just add distortion and double-bass drums to them and as much as I'd hate to admit it, it's exactly what I would do (and have done, to some extent, in a former life). There's no one taking photos of Ground Zero which is refreshing and means I can keep my sarcasticity to myself.
It's Thursday already and I just want this week to be over. I do not want to be in my office a second longer than required. I make the light over at Albany Street and remember the recent topographical change in the street and stay right. There is always perpendicular traffic on Church Street and it's disgusting.
Thank you for reading.
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