Today has been remarkable. It was a day in three acts. I won’t be able to elaborate much on Act I and Act III, because these stories are still developing.
I was so happy to hear from M, who I believe is working on a project in France. I spent hours this morning thinking about brands and what images come up with certain words. In the end I decided to sleep on it.
As this was going on, there was kind of a twitter “event.” I heard several blasts in the neighborhood, counted 14 of them; it was 1:59 am. I tweeted the news immediately, wondering if they were gunshots. It turns out several other people all over the neighborhood heard the blasts as well, and people were reporting it under the #ColumbiaCity hash tag. No sirens followed, and if it was a gun, it sounded like it was coming from all one gun; i.e., it wasn’t an exchange. So most of us concluded that it was fireworks. One guy guessed it was coming from Boss Lounge.
The people in the twitterverse reported hearing 7, 8, or 9 shots, they weren’t sure. Me, I counted exactly 14, and I know I’m right because I have the unusual skill of being able to count blasts. I was a drummer for four years in high school, so as long as the sounds are not simultaneous, my body “counts” the first eight for free, in the same way someone might see dots on dice and immediately know the number from the shape, I hear groups of four and eight without having to count. Is that weird? So after eight blasts, I started counting 9, 10, 11…. up to 14.
For some reason this came up in a French class once, and my students started testing me, and they’d drum on the desk with two hands, as fast as they could (which is not fast in drumming terms), and be amazed when I’d say “11.” Or “27.” They asked me how I did it, and I said, “I have rhythm. I hear fours and eights.” And they pronounced me a freak. Which showed me that people often hate what they don’t understand. Also that my students had NO RHYTHM… which I find abhorrent.
I picked up my new bike today, after they made all the changes I asked for. The seat is new, and I asked them to level it off and tighten it up, as it was slipping around and then tipping nose-up, and therefore poking me where I did not want to be poked. The lady fixed it and tightened it as much as she could, but on the ride home, the seat starting slipping again, probably due to my GREAT WEIGHT, (which I said to myself in a Scottish accent, as I am oft prone to do). I asked my neighbor D if he had an allen wrench. More on neighbor D later.
Do you know what it feels like, when you’re a 10 year old boy, and you get your first bike? This is the third bike that I’ve acquired as an adult… one was two years ago in Shanghai with Amber. The second one was in Manhattan, O gave me a bike he wasn’t using. Today, today was my third bike as an adult, and I must say the excitement I felt was as real as it was when I got my first real bike as a little kid. The only thing that would have made it better was if it didn’t poke me where I didn’t want to be poked.
This is the part of the day that I will have to be the most vague about at this point. Neighbor D came over and talked about projects, and it turns out one of the great hurdles that has I’ve been seeing on my path to a better life turns out to be not a great hurdle at all, but instead a tiny crack in the road. Or, to mix metaphors, the great uphill climb I had been dreading turns out to be a nice gentle descent.
Today may have been the day where it all came together in my mind; tomorrow I start making it come together in real life.