After a much-needed cut & color yesterday (which is way too frizzwaldo today), I walked a few short blocks (!) to my new neighborhood. The exposure to other humans and sunlight set my brain afire and I wrote some notes on the back of an essay I’m reworking. So that I don’t lose the notes when I file this draft into my folder for this essay, I put here now. Okay? You like? Me rub you wrong time.

What I don’t talk about, and maybe I should, is that my non-whiteness grants me access to some places. I feel safe in projects, invisible where my white friends might otherwise stand out.

What a furious constellation of light and sound, this town. Already I love Manhattan!

From my new home, head south and you hit the East River in a few short blocks. The promenade is surprisingly empty & commerce-free for such a stunning view on a beautiful night. (79 degrees says a red sign in Brooklyn). And most of the people enjoying the stroll are Asian — fobby. I imagine the ones fishing are Fukianese. I feel at home as I walk amongst them.

Across the river, I see Empire Ferry State Park, where I did my ritual cleansing. It seems so small now.