The Loss of Something Stolen

It was gone.

I stood in disbelief. I was to stunned as I watched in mute horror as two gym teachers waded through a pile of backpacks. One stopped, reached down and raised another backpack into the air. "Is this it?" It was blue, but not the blue that was my bag. NO, that's not it. The other teacher stopped, looked around his feet. "I don't see any more."

And then I had to come to the realization that my baby was gone. I stood thinking, what to do now. I was useless as I tried to remember everything on my laptop. My whole life was on my baby. Everything. I was at such a complete loss that I didn't even know where to begin from there. I started looking for myself through the bags but I knew in vain.

I opened my eyes, in dismay and dejection. I was face down in my bed, mourning the loss of my laptop. Really, what was I going to do now? And then I realized that I was in bed. With a sigh of relief I turned over to see my laptop on my desk, sitting there waiting patiently to be turned on. I should have known better though, my backpack is black. It hasn't been blue in ages. And Gym Teachers??!!

Wow. What a dream.

I promised to watch after her even more vigilantly. Never ever let her out of my sight. Ever. I know I've become obsessive, to the point of mania, but it's been my closest companion on my journey. Who was there for me every day and night, who did I whisper state secrets to daily, who played music for me when I was down, gave me current events when I felt cut off from the world, kept me in touch with family and loved ones? Can you imagine the closeness I feel for this little piece of hardware? You have no idea.

Maybe my meds need changing.

Yesterday ...a blur. My brother went to the Nightingale for the Christmas Party. I, on the other hand, went to Starbucks for a cup of joe. Yeah, the bean, so that I can tremble in my seat all night and stay up until late in the morning. Whatever, that motherfucking bean is like fuel pump nozzle up my ass. I pound away on my laptop, wrapping up my blog for the day. Electra flitters around like a moth, restless and annoying. Soon, she is gone to leave me alone with my writing.

When I get home I don't call it an early night. As usual, I'm writing into the wee hours.

After a harrowing dream like that, I think I'll get a coffee maker today.

I saw a nice one in Duane Reade for twenty bucks. So I treated myself and picked one up. A little thing from Mr. Coffee. When I brought it home it was just perfect. Just the right size, just the right amount of cups that it makes. I loved everything about it. I couldn't wait to make my first cup from it tomorrow after I go food shopping. I need coffee, milk, sugar, the works.

But soon, it was time for me to make my way to therapy. Now here's the funny thing, my doctor says that I need to exercise more. Since I hate crowds, and since the Way is nothing but jam packed, he suggested, that instead of taking the shuttle across town, to rather walk across town to the East Side lines. I think: Wow, what a fucking wonderful idea. So today I examine the train map. Indeed, 96th street station East side has a doppelganger on the West side at 96th street, and 96 street runs straight across town, slicing through Central Park like a razor. A bee line. Fuck, who can ask for anything more? I packed up my baby and left for my long hike.

The first thing that I realized is that from the East Side to the West side is an uphill climb. Yep. 96th street and Broadway is at a lower elevation than Central Park. That's fun. I lean forward and tackle the task at hand, and do pretty good until I get to Central Park proper. 96th STREET, goes through Central Park...not the 96th Street SIDEWALK. Yeah, there was no sidewalk bracketing the road through the park. I would have to walk on the roadway, and the way that the cars were racing into the park made me think twice. Just inside the mouth of the roadway was a standing map, to which I considered and lo, there was a pedestrian walk on the right side of the roadway.

Ahh, a path, like a trail through the park. Superb. I set upon this, and make my way. Now, halfway into this walk a gaping dark tunnel blocks my path. For the first time I stop and consider my surroundings. I'm standing on a ribbon of busted concrete, tall walls and trees on both sides of the road, two lanes of mean road with cars whizzing past, and a dark, gaping moss covered maw yawning before me. Now all I need are some thugs to run up from behind me, or meet me in the tunnel. I would be trapped. I could step out on the roadway in flight and become instant roadkill, or fight and go down if there were more than two of them. Now I'm not bragging here, but if scared enough I'll kick a man in the nuts and run. If there are two, then THAT would have to be a fair fight, which I would probably have a 30/70 chance of winning if he is a younger man. But that would be the long and short of it. I was fucked out here.

I sucked it up and entered into the cavernous tunnel, without light, damp from some unseen water source, some parts iced over from the cold of the night and the shadows of the tunnel. I made my way through and quick stepped away. Once far enough on the walkway of death, I stopped to take some pictures. Yeah, shitting in my pants, I had to have a few for posterity.

What a dumb idea! I thought to myself as I emerged out of the other end of the walk. I'll never, ever try that shit a second time. After I checked the crotch of my pants for piss stains, I headed to the Way, hopped the number 6 and headed downtown for my group session.

I have a big day today.

Hobobob