August 24, 2019

Beach-bound.

I once woke at 7:30, not long after the rays began to slip into the folds of my sheets, made coffee and grabbed the pen to write. These days it’s 10:30, the space between work and write truncated, the time I retire closer to 2or sometimes later. I miss that stretch of day, when there was so much potential in every hour. It’s not time, is it, that has shifted? It’s me. My muscles grate and twist. The mattress has moments where I think it’s been replaced with a fakir’s bed.

I relished the two, maybe three hours I spent at the beach in Ptown. I need more sun and sand. I rouse and send a few morning missives before showering and packing a sack. I drop off the laundry with Luis and wander over to the salumeria to grab a hero; homemade mozzarella with roasted peppers- some hot pickled ones tossed into the mix, smoked turkey. That goes into the backpack with the green chutney Kurkures, watermelon ice infused with a mezcal/Jamaica blend. A blanket, a towel. Seltzer.

Citibike restocked all the bikes overnight so I grab one and zip toward the water. Unfortunately Citibike has also restocked every dock near the ferry so I miss the first boat wandering 8 blocks to find an empty slot to park. “It’s the day off. There’s no hurry. You are going to the beach on a Saturday at the end of August. Gurl, the place is gonna be packed no matter what time your ass gets there” I remind myself. The bag feels heavier than before I trod the extra steps, I regret putting Cute before Comfort, my sneakers and orthotics taking a day off themselves back in the foyer of the apartment. The cbd/weed pill begins to kick in and feels like a shot of espresso. Espresso I like- this was too much. That’s why I normally only take half, but ” clearly I wasn’t thinking and now- re-fucking-lax”. I chuckle at the ability to go meta so quickly. I yank the bag off the back and nestle into the seat, in the shade awaiting my ride.