During the winter time, I refer to myself as Alfie.
In the movie Alfie, Jude law is a city-roaming Lothario who is a man of little means but is well established in the female community. Even though it is wintertime in bitterly cold New York, he wears nothing more than a dress shirt, a sports jacket and a scarf. I have the same style of dress during winter ( unless I'm walking ) so I refer to many of my outings as the "Alfie-flexes".
Tonight I was Alfie again, looking somewhat like Sweeney Todd in the beach scene. (If you haven't watched the movie, don't worry that's not a spoiler). For a Friday, tonight was pretty slow. Everywhere I went was a sausage fest, even the infamous Tom Tom was half-empty. Last weekend was much better, every bar was packed and I'm sure a lot of guys got laid.
I finished reading Brave New World today, and I was very impressed by the book. In it, author Aldous Huxley talks about a sort of anti utopia where people are medicated with something called Soma, and have almost every aspect of life controlled through an intense system of biological engineering. When I went into a few bars tonight, I myself felt like taking a "gramme of soma". But, we already have our soma.
Our soma is alcohol. It is our escape from the realities of the world, to sip of drinks that can eventually kill us, boost our confidence and make things dull and less painful. I don't normally drink to escape anything, but its hard going to bar after bar and not having at least one drink.
Drinking isn't fulfilling if you aren't having fun, and I realize that most guys tonight aren't fulfilled. They are the same group of faceless men, all sipping on beers and standing up staring at the women who are dancing in groups. I myself was lost in thought. Tonight wasn't a night to be a socialite, I felt quite introspective. It might have been a mixture of the cold and my lingering feelings of disassociation from earlier during the day, or something else.
I have developed a small obsession with cleaning my room. It is a futile obsession, merely because in a room with limited space, there are only so many drawers and closets you can put stuff into. But there will always be a few extra things hanging about; a grisly menagerie of poor planning poking you in the back all day long. While I was fiddling with my cleaning, I listened to a few albums that always make me sing along to them: I listened to Flyleaf once more, Spiritual Machines by Our Lady Peace, Chuck by Sum 41, and a host of dance tracks, including "blow my whistle bitch" by DJ Alligator.
I've been reading constantly for the last few weeks, which might explain my feelings of isolation on this Friday. After reading a good book--particularly one that deals with weird social issues in an antiutopian society where promiscuity is seen as a good thing--you can experience a small fallout. In one of my earlier blogs, I believe I described an effect called a "disconnect".
"Fallout" and "disconnect" are two different things. To disconnect is basically to experience a mental overload which thrusts you back into reality. (Think, typing 120 pages in 5 days, etc.) Fallout is simply exiting the frame of mind the book put you into.When I was reading Brave New World, I felt like I was looking into the future, a future written with sometimes jumpy prose and dense dialogue. For the few days I read it, I felt enamored by this weird world of strict order, strange rules and interesting societal castes and biases.
Immediately after finishing the book, I wanted to leap into The Road, a tale of a dystopia by Cormac McCarthy(a writing God), but I wasn't sure if I wanted to go from anti utopia to dystopia right away. I think reading those books back to back might affect my reality bubble and stir up some latent depression. But either way, today was a "fallout" day.
I sang along with songs, ironed dress shirts I rarely wear and ran four and a half miles. My tally for the week so far should be about 17-20 miles, since I've been running each day. The running might also explain my lack of impetus to party tonight. At 7:30 I went running from where I live to Dupont Circle and back. I returned at about 8:45 and headed out at about 11. The run was nice, but I think the music was also another factor in my changing mood. On my Ipod I creating a playlist called "jogging mix" which was all over the place. One moment i'm listening a hardcore dancehall track from the mid 90's, to the melancholy overtures of Sugar Ray. My jogging mix was more somber than upbeat. I will remember in the future to stick to heavy metal, dance music, or upbeat, super-violent dancehall to keep me charged when I jog 50 blocks.
But my shining moment came when I was running through Logan Circle, U2's "It's a beautiful day" blasted through my headphones and I looked up to the sky and felt happy to be alive. "It's a beautiful night." I said to myself, chuckling at the thought of Bono making custom versions of the song for joggers, with titles like:
It's a Beautiful walk
It's a Beautiful flight
It's a Beautiful Afternooon
You get the idea. But a good feeling washed over me as I heard the song (though it could have been the endorphins finally kicking in. I think they take longer in 30 degree weather).
Friday is gone, but Saturday is bristling with possibilities.
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