the lost man chronicles
Adventure to Roosevelt Island
It was 8:30 PM and I had read for an hour and a half, and I was utterly exhausted. The last thing I wanted to do was to go out and take pictures. It would have been far easier to lie down, shut my eyes and fall fast asleep.
Alas, there was a demon inside of me that prodded me with her pitchfork to get back into the groove and dive into the delight of my newest vice. She whispered, "there’s a full moon out there, and you know there’s no better opportunity than the present." It was the temptation of the lune that proved to be the cutting edge, that keenest reason, and the sharpest irrationale that shook me from my stupor and irked me out of the idea of indulging my inclination toward repose and relaxation.
So, I made myself some strong tea, took a shower and put my camera, metro pass and a few dollars in my bag.
I stopped by the local market to purchase my latest favorite refreshment—M (metromint water for a buck twenty-five). Than I made a sharp right at the next corner so I could catch the subway at 33rd and Park.
There, as I crossed the intersection, I noticed the giant blinking arrow. Traffic was being redirected so that some maintenance could be done in the tunnel.
Conveniently, a nice little cove had been created for me in the center of the crosswalk by three orange cones. It was there that I crouched and patiently clicked away—taking this, the latest edition to the Ghosts of Manhattan (link) Series. Thereafter, I descended and boarded the 6 uptown. In error, I exited one stop too early. Lucky for me, there always seems to be a good reason for making such mistakes or at least I do my best to create opportunity out of little crises such as this one.
Hence, the shots in side the station of the colorful wall.
Note: recently, I was told by a stranger that a policeman had told a friend that it was illegal to take photos within the confines of the NYC subway system. The elucidation has not deterred me yet. Besides, it is practically illegal to take any photos in the city these days. A run-in with the police a few days later at the Queens Midtown Tunnel as I took the long way home, would punctuate that notion for me.
Moreover, I find it difficult not to take pictures of the metropolis regardless of all the warnings and restrictions. For gleefully, I relay that an overwhelming feeling of fortune and appreciation for living, loving and working in the City that never sleeps has returned to me.
Recently, I saw an advertisement for Conde Nast which read Torrid Love Affair. That’s exactly how I feel about the City. It is as if I have fallen in love again with Her all over again.
Come September it will be 13 years since I first came to this town not only in search of something extra ordinary, but most importantly, to stay. Back then I was in awe of her all the resplendent experience She had to offer, back when anyone like me who came from a small town like San Jose, California would naturally be star struck by the awesome power and pace of the metropolis. As a measly grad student I was relatively carefree to indulge the cosmopolitan and bohemian life.
Alas, after I graduated and began to work the charm of the grit, the grime and the grind took on a whole new meaning for me and the paranoid, frantic and chagrined attitude of the city and her inhabitants no longer inspired me as it long had before.
As Mary Schmidt, a columnist for the Chicago Tribune once advised to the class of 1997, "Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft. Travel."
I quickly learned what she meant and can wholly concede that the experience is exactly as she infers.
As I exited the tram and turned around to look at the bridge once more before heading home, I notice the moon hanging there tauntingly. Immediately, I knew I wasn’t heading home. I was off on the second part of my adventure to chase the moon.
For a moment I considered getting back on the tram so that I could take photos of Her while airborne, but decided against it and vied for shots by the water instead.
So, I started walking toward the East River. Along the way I came across a marvelous red wall and took advantage to take some long exposure shots with the brick as the side-ground.
The rest of the evening was spent taking shots of the glorious moon shining upon the East River as it hung over Roosevelt Island.
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