Seasonal Shifts

You know it's almost summer when dudes are flying down side streets pumping Luke's "I Wanna Rock" with all the windows down and the hatchbacks open, when toes on shoes go from closed to open, when all the daycare centers take their boys and girls out for walks in the street, they hands clasped together to form a chain of safety in the bustling streets of the most infamous New York borough there is. I went out on patrol this morning, determined to somehow shake the general feeling laziness that comes with financial challenge, houseguests, the imminent arrival of another houseguest, and the implications of certain truths and my longing for seemingly endless sessions of that nasty filthy sweaty sort of sex that only comes with the season.

I must admit that unlike many of my more jaded comrades I still have that zeal for encountering beautiful women, something I was reminded of just yesterday in a conversation with a friend. As I do my 45 minutes on the bike around the hood it's magic every time I dolly past a soul worthy of a framed photograph on the wall of my memory. I imagine what I might do or say were she not on a cellphone or walking with her child or if my third eye didn't give me that pat on the back like "Kid, that one ain't for you." But like I told my sister last night, it is dreaming that keep us young, and thus I'm never going to stop.

As I'm in the planning stages of a new script, preparing for promoting Cake ans resuming exercise routines that were abandoned in the chaos of the past few seasons, it's good to breath easy as I swerve through the streets on two wheels. Yesterday I made it down to the Promenade just in time for the sunset before I caught one of the best season finales of LOST that's ever been. They're tearing down the warehouses along the Promenade side of the East River to make way for a series of building, that will tower almost as high up as the Promenade itself. I'm glad I captured the area in pictures, as it will probably barely be recognizable a decade from now.

This weekend I will have my little godbrother staying with me, a cat of 21 from the Chi who I'm certain is no stranger to the party life. With fiestas cracking off nearly every night of the weekend it could prove interest. I guess I'll have to take pictures (though I'll only post the ones I won't get my ass kicked for). Out.