Hibernation - a temporary change of pace

My room has turned into a cave. Deep in the ghettos of Brooklyn. Take the 4 train as far as you can go, past the sky scrapers and hot pretzel carts. Walk a bit, go up the stairs, and enter my new domain.

Thanks to a designer friend with failed plans at creating an in home studio I've acquired long black curtains for the windows in my room. My land lord had complained to me that the towels I had stolen from equinox to hang in my windows were unattractive and that I needed to replace them with actual curtains. I contacted anyone I knew who played with fabric and while many people referred me to fabric shops one guy had curtains he had never used and now my room is a dark cave in Brooklyn highlighted soley by the light from my laptops ancient screen.

Perhaps its the weather or perhaps its time in the city but the more people I meet the less optimistic I am that I'll leave this city with many I'll remain in contact with. So with the outcome already forseen what is the point to seek real acquaintances? The industry I'm a pawn in requires friendliness and for that I accept conforming to the blatant plague of fakeness which already suffocates this city but in the past year I've been here my perception has gone from awe to distaste.

The other day when I was coming down the stairs at Union Square Station a herd of people were headed my way after getting off the train and as the crowd dispersed I noticed an old man laying on the ground struggling to get up. I ran to him and stuck my hand under his face to show him that he could use me to get up. He rose and thanked me. Why the fuck didn't anyone else help him up? Too much in a rush to get to their jobs or lives that a loss of 20 seconds to effortlessly help someone out was unfathomable? Priceless.

Alas, my cave has turned to my refuge. This may be temporary as a bear hibernates for only so long though the nights of passing out with the TV on and mornings exuding into afternoons is an accepted change of pace.