Okay, I’m back. It was very touch and go for a while. Like, we’re talking scraping rock bottom. It hasn’t been that bad for years. It was horrible, and a little bit scary.
Last week was incredibly rough [only managed two days at work] and it all peaked on Friday night and Saturday so I apologise if I saw you then and seemed like a complete head case or space cadet or something. I just felt wooden all week, and surprisingly and horrendously homesick. Like, if I didn't have these tickets booked for Texas already, like I would have just gone home or something. Saturday was a beautiful day which made it much harder because I kept feeling like when it’s so springlike and lovely I should be reflecting that but just couldn’t. I hung out in Central Park for a little with La Lauren [on a break from work right nearby] then headed downtown where I was meant to go cover the Idiotarod for someone. I just couldn’t do it – luckily they’d hired a proper photographer so it didn’t matter too much.
I walked from Delancey down to Battery Park, and there was a ferry just waiting there so I carried on walking, right on to the Staten Island Ferry, where I caught this amazing sunset and idly wondered what it’d be like to just put my bag down on deck and jump overboard. Then I was kind of like ‘what the hell am I thinking’ so made myself sit downstairs for the rest of the journey, admiring the sunset and reading Richard Brautigan [one of my literary heroes. J’adore].
