west 95th

photo.jpg
Originally uploaded by Charlie Roberts

(and I am up)

Today.
I call two alternative doctors.
I stretch in the shower.
I "bike" to Chelsea.
I get my hair cut at Chelsea Barbers.
I have the door held open for me as I leave by the woman who runs the place, who owns it.
I have two hotdogs at F&B Gudtfood on West 23rd. meh.
I totter across the street to the Chelsea Cinema and the movie is sold out.
I totter back across the street.
I fall.
I lie on the pavement.
I lie there as people pass.
I look around for something to grab onto... nothing.
I think, I think how am I going to stand back up?


"You need help?'
"Yeah, I do."
"Did you hurt yourself? Did you break something?"
"No, I'm fine, can you, can you help me up?
"Sure I can help you up."
"okay, thanks, watch out because I'm kind of heavy."

(and I am up)

"Thank you so much."
"Are you sure you're okay."
"Yeah, I'm fine, you see I have weak legs. I have a neurological disease, so when I fall, I can't get up by myself. I'm actually fine, I'm going to get on that bike over there, believe it or not."
"Well, you take care of yourself, okay, you take good care of yourself."
"I will, thank you, thank you so much."

I bike to CVS and buy ear plugs for swimming and super glue for broken sunglasses.
I walk in, an employee spots me and insists that she look for my merchandise while I stay where I am.

I bike home.
I swim in the pool with my new excellent ear plugs.
I glue my fingers together trying to mend my trendy sunglasses.
I talk to Mattie on the phone about getting an alternative doctor in the city, about the power of nutrition, about falling down on west 23rd Street and being helped up by a kind stranger.

GETTING CRUSHED

After working out and swimming, I'm wiped.
I can't sleep and I'm too tired to read.

So I go for a bike ride.

I'll motor to Riverside Park.

I want to lie in grass and stare up at trees. This is difficult for me because once I lie down, I can't get up without grabbing onto something, or getting help from a stranger.

Mike, my doorman, opens up the bike room for me as Rick and Karen sweep into the lobby.

I've worked with Rick and Karen at a summer stock theatre. I've been in a dozen shows with Rick. I quit working there years ago (for dubious reasons) but Rick continued. Now he is back from that theater, glad-handing all the doormen, happy to be back, triumphant in his return.

I'm in the back of the lobby where Rick can't see me. I recede, I slide anonymously into the bike room. I feel crushed, physically crushed.

And as I mount my bike,

(I lift my leg with with m right hand over the low-bar of the the bike)

I consider if I SHOULD leave New York. This might be too much. Continually comparing myself to others,
continually explaining myself to friends. The awful spectacle.

But in minutes, I'm on my bike, passing other slow poke cyclists. Using the hand throttle, I can quietly pass other bikers going full speed at 20 miles an hour. My legs are moving but I'm not breaking a sweat.

Riverside Park is gorgeous.
There are plenty of lush and peaceful spots. I (however) need to be near something sturdy so I can right myself.

I choose a spot behind a park bench.

I lie by the side of the large paved pathway (french-like in style, I think - more of a pedestrian boulevard than a sidewalk).
I'm two feet from gravel, peering through the slats of the park bench.

Lots of dog walkers in Riverside Park.

I stare at the dogs and their owners. Peeking through the slats of the park bench, I glumly stare at their world. The owner and pet are silent and solemn in their daily ritual. They are of like mind, but somehow the dog has more power.
The human is responsible to the dog.
The dog needs this walk.
The dog knows this is their time. The human (while enjoying the walk to a degree, worries if this is the best way to spend their time. The dog is confident, the dog is resolute that this is the best way to spend their time. This confidence gives the dog power.

This is why I was reluctant to get the cat. The cat knows what it needs. I don't know what I need, but I must comply to the cat's needs.

(damn cat)

After (some amount of time) staring through the slats of the park bench,

(if I hadn't had a bike next to me, I'd be mistaken for a careless drunk ... too lazy to venture further from the path)

I glide down to Battery Park.

I cross through SOHO to the east side.

(SOHO at dusk is the best, one of the nicest places to be in the city at that hour, I'd wager).

I get dinner at Fat Dumplings on east 11th. This is a great place. The food is cheap and tasty.
The owners set you up right. I had six dumplings and a ginger ale.

Diet coke is my usual, but there are WARNINGS about fake sugar.
There are articles, blog entries, theories devoted to suspect fake sugar.
Some conjecture that it may induce ALS.

At home, I turn on the air conditioner and fall asleep in the cold.

I have a dream. I dream that there was a biological disaster. Human beings have deformed into three categories.
Giants, normal sized people, and humans the size of mice. The tiny humans keep getting crushed in their tiny cars.

THE MIND, THE SOUL, THE SPIRIT,

PAINTING ROCKS

Sunday morning, I biked down to church for the eleven o'clock service.
At first, I couldn't get my bike to work. I struggled with the throttle.
I imagined my day, making annoyed calls to the bike store on the upper east side, the cab ride up there with the bike tied down to the back of the taxi.
But before giving into hopelessness, I paused, and let last week's testimony to sink in.

One thing that they teach at the Christian Science Church is G-d's infinite harmony.
Clue into G-d and leg go, harmony is always there.

So, I let go of frustration and by bike eventually worked.
Biking down the west side highway, I was bugged that I would be too late.
But I only was five minutes late and my lateness allowed me to sit on the side sitting sideways facing the pews.
It was so cool and peaceful. I felt utterly relaxed.
I really listened to the readings and as I listened, I meditated and prayed.
I felt more connected and heard more than I usually do.
You see? Harmony prevailed.

I spent the rest of the day buying vitamins at GNC and Whole foods.
Later I tried a Chi Gong DVD and tried to do 10 minutes of vocal work.

I think I feel better.

I biked to the AVIS near me to see if they had a car that would fit my bike. I was sitting on it as I spoke to the guy in the Avis lot so he could clearly see what I needed.
He was so nice! ( so nice that I wonder if I reek of sadness) He took the time to show me what might work, pulling down front seats, opening up the hatch backs. I zoomed away happy.

I love New York City but I crave nature. I need an escape. I want to be sitting under an enormous maple tree, reading biographies, sipping wine, painting rocks.

The whole "Patients like Me" website is kind of a shock to my system, but as I hunt and gather on my electric bike, as I practice pysical and vocal exercises, as I pray and come in touch with an infinite universe created by a loving G-d (this creator, this source has to be loving because love (I would argue) is the basis of our existence, as I review all this, and access this hope I've always held for life, my creative life, my career, my connections to others, I feel like I'll be okay. I am trained in creative hope.

Sometimes I'm filled with rage, sometimes confusion, but not despair. I am made of faith and hope.

SPRAYER

Susan had me over for dinner in her backyard garden on West 95th and Central Park West.

When I got there, she was wrestling with a fountain pump that she bought on Amazon for $50.
She said she bough it because it was German-made.

There was a hole by her backdoor lined with plastic bags and a bunch of nozzles, each nozzle creating a different look, a different spray. After testing different ones, she chose the kind they use for a champagne or punch bowl (a pretty and steady flow, but low. This nozzle was called "Water Bell".

It reminded me of a bidet.

I brought tinned oysters and crackers (so good they must be deadly).
We drank bad red wine (like cooking wine!) and had delicious corn on the cob (cooked on the grill) with chicken.

Like an elderly person, I had to leave by nine.

A few years ago, Susan and I drank so MUCH wine that when she woke up, there was wine on the walls.
We now refer to drinking wine as spraying.

As in, "come on over, got the wine sprayer ready."
_______________________________________________

Josh (charlie)

It was so fun to see you and ride your bike!
Hope you were in bed at a reasonable hour...
Talk to you soon,

Sue


________________________________


Marabec!

Thanks for the vinegary wine.

Reading this in the times today...

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/08/16/fashion/16drunk.html?_r=1&ref=style

Thank you for my outside time.
I love coming to your place.

I wish I could have gotten sauced and splashed more.
But of course, I am unsure of my driving abilities.
Every day, there might be something missing.
(Where did that go?)

I, however, glided home like G-d's favorite.

Straight down West End, and then 11th, all green lights along the way.
i think I was home in ten minutes, sober and ready for my old man tub.

Love your outdoor bidet.
It needs to be on the hill in the back (for more privacy- behind a bush)

I'll be over for a wash.

-CROBERTS