Skip to main content

I Love This City

I am in love with this city, its whirlwind of flavor and culture, a veritable cornicopia of heart. I explore it with relish, employing the zest and passion a man usually reserves for his lover. Oh, and how enticing this place is, capturing my gaze effortlessly, flaunting its excitement in front of me coquettishly, amused as I lie in agony, overcome by an unrestrainable lust for life. The sun meanders carelessly along the glistening tops of curving cathedrals, strolling along languidly before retiring for the night, replaced by the flickering silver of the awakening moon. The sea, awash in bits of blinking light, the strobes of Neptune's heaven, blinds me as I start eagerly towards the beach. I am in love with the Autumn, reborn in the lavender of the setting sun, and enraptured by romance in all of its forms. It is the essence of who I am, and this place reflects that ideal. A resounding epiphany, and all Im doing is waiting on a tailor. As always, Im stricken with an inconsolable wanderlust and an aching desire to know every experience the world makes available to me. The tea I drink is from Italy, chilled and frozen in tasteful eternity next to a bottle of Badoit spring water. To think that, as a younger man, a boy really at 18, I was afraid of these experiences. Crippled by the anxiety of perpetual heartbreak, my ambition reigned in by the decieving hand of fatal rationality. No more. Life beckons, and I thank God everyday I answered the call. I will continue to do this, but for now, lounging in the dying light with a glass of pomegranate green sounds delightful. Cheers.

The fact that a year ago today I was in Singapore still baffles me. To everyone, myself included, circumventing the world by ship is remarkable and unbelievable. Yet, to my friends and I, it was a matter or course, a requirement of the job. And what a job it was. Sentosa was gorgeous and captivating, a staggering, opulent metropolis situated in the middle of a lush, evergreen jungle. I drank whiskey that cost $75 USD a shot, did handstand pushups on a pillar 25 feet above the ground, and imbibed the rich locality until I was drunk on culture shock. Through it all, I kept my eyes steady and leveled, marred as my gaze was by emotion and desire. I thought of home, and all that I had left behind and outgrown. I sensed the opportunity for a new life, a journey worthy of novelization, a story so overwhelmingly transcendent that it could only be taken as fiction to the public at large. I decided right then and there that nothing, no fear, illness, woman or enemy, would prevent me from living exactly the way I desired. As we made our way to the sprawling city, foriegn nightlife beckoned. The booming rhythms and pounding bass resonated with me on a visceral level, the effects magnified by the aforementioned exorbitantly priced whiskey. I smiled and carried on. Heres to life.

One of my favorite things to see is the skyline at night. Crossing the bridge and slowly witnessing the emerging city-scape is exhilirating. Like I told my girlfriend, when I look across the water and behold the rising skyscrapers and widespread landscape, clustered as it is with houses, businesses, restaurants and clubs, I see opportunity. Life unfolds daily here, and Im blessed to count myself as a part of it. Back in May, after being temporarily freed from the confines of laborious beauracracy and Sisyphean over-exertion, my friends and I would take to downtown. A tribe of libidinous, aggressive young men engaging in full scale social warfare is troubling enough, but when those character traits are enhanced by the liberal consumption of alcohol, the results are devastating. I remember being carried by 2 of my friends, arms strewn messily over their slumping shoulders, before we all deposited ourselves into the care of a beleagured hookah bar owner. Beset on all sides by intoxicated idiots, he did the only logical thing and brought us more liquor. My next moment of consciousness finds me shirtless in the middle of a nightclub, being groped by loose girls in short, shimmering dresses, harrassed by the security, and slightly aware of being hassled towards the door. I blinked a few times, and realized the pavement had become my pillow. We spent the night on our friends lawn, shivering, the frigid air blanketing our weary bodies. With no work, I returned to my room and promptly passed out. The resulting hangover was a war trophy.

Midnight dalliances have become my preferred  form of cardio, as I loathe treadmills to a nearly irrational degree. I gaze and gawk at the exclusive gated apartment buildings, each with its own unique architectural hue. In Balboa, a simple trip to the park will transport you to Gordon Gekko's New York City, while a few steps North will acquaint you with coastal New England. Some people I know are intimidated by the realization that they cant afford these palatial homes, while others are motivated and driven by the potential that lay before them, ambitious and deliciously unrealized. I belong to the latter group. One day, I will join the ranks of the select few that not only rent, but own such fine accomidations. Ive struggled, toiled, quivered and raged against the onslaught of poverty, and my fear of irrelevance and pure failure fuels my insatiable need to be successful. Not in the eyes of the world, but on my own terms. Freezing, lonely nights in Virginia are forever in pursuit of me, and, like hellhounds nipping at my fatigued heels, they remind me of the fate of a broken, bitter young man who cant handle his money. Thats why I invest, play cards, fight, model and write. For love and for fear. And every day that I experience such prosperity, Im reminded of how far Ive climbed, how much Ive bled. It wont be in vain. I love this city.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

My Return To The Field

How often must I remain here? I must have died unexpectedly, and my wandering spirit, aura thick with malevolence and anguish, refuses to acknowledge my own death. Indeed, I have become a ghost, cursed to haunt diners, coffeeshops, bars and beaches, pen brandished and book unsheathed. I've grown so distant from others that Im more statue than Man, yet where this separation once stung painfully, it now soothes reassuringly. Lumped in with a generation of "men" with testosterone levels lower than a woman's would be 30 years ago, and forced to make due with "women" that proudly proclaim themselves sluts and will actually attempt to fistfight men if they are ignored and eschewed, as they should be, my sentiment is clear. I want no part of this generation. It's filthy and degraded.

You could say I'm living a daydream right now, a fantasy granted the breath of life by divine providence. How many shifts at work have I frittered away contemplating the perf…

Beacon Of Light In The Darkness

Beacon Of Light In The Darkness




For too long I've harbored the one-sided shadows of former relationships. Torturous, rapid bombardments of perceived slights and ridiculous thought crimes. I've stifled my own opinions on everything from politics to religion, the two classic hot button issues, paragons of ostracization and dogmatic pollution.

The ghosts of the past are insidious and seductive, causing me to view them through rose-colored glasses for a formerly indeterminate amount of time. Yet now, in the absence of that old, familiar love, the grip of nostalgic fantasy has been loosened as my naivete is strangled by harsh reality.

Gasping for breath, it attacks me with a battalion of its best memories, a company of incomparable moments, countless divisions of dreams rendered dead by inaction and hatred. In the end, we all die alone. In those final, fleeting hours, we'll be surrounded by a devoted, compassionate family if were lucky, holding and pumping our aching, callouse…

Curious Contemplation

My emotions are tumultuous, a whirling tornado throwing me around chaotically with no certain direction. I am trapped in the eye of a storm that has been raging vehemently for the past year. Whom can I trust? When friendship becomes a creaking facade and disrespect laughs mockingly behind a thin veneer of humor and joviality, I am crestfallen and wandering.

Crippled by indecision and weakened by the constant hammering of my trust in my own instincts, I return intuitively to that old harbinger of my past isolation and sustenance; pure, unbridled rage. Fists clenched and compassion askew, the only thing that saves my would be targets is my sense of rationality. Compassion is a finite resource, not to be squandered on the undeserving.

When I first arrived, I was immediately thrust into an arena I was totally unprepared for. The world I had occupied for the past 3.5 years was one of combat and character, where disputes were settled with clashing bones and straining muscles in the privacy…