Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Well here I am....mid rehearsal for WINE LOVERS (go to New Orleans May 22) mid working part time and searching SOHO stores for the occasional unique hat or beige socks. I haven't really been auditioning except for appointments here and there. I am thrilled my family is coming early July (first time here for Mom!) and I feel the Borough coffee shop writer in me bubbling and stirring verbage.
You know what? Central Park is beautiful..last week during my lunch break I went for a leisurely stroll through one of New Yorks famous landmarks Central Park by the 59th/Central Park Zoo entrance. It was a beautiful day of mid 60's, breezy and there wasnt too many people, a welcome break from 5th Ave and the hustle and bustle of tourists and shoppers...or is it hustlers? ;)
As I made my way through the plush entrances, and vending carts I found a cove about the river with a bridge and a brick over lay. I can see this from the 42nd floor where I work. It was breathtaking. Lo and beyold to my left, a flutist...my very own central park Stevie Wonder, floating beautiful tones into the crisp almost summer air. A magical surprise. He began with a Beatles tune. I stopped breathing and took it in:
"I look at all the lonely people.I look at all the lonely people. Ella Marigby Picks up the rice in the church where her wedding has been;Lives in a dream.Waits at the window,Wearing a face that she keeps in a jar by the door.Who is it for?All the lonely people, where do they all come from?All the lonely people, where do they all belong?Father MacKenzie Writing the words of a sermon that no one will hear;No one comes near.Look at him working,Nodding his socks in the night when there's nobody there.What does he care?All the lonely people, where do they all come from?All the lonely people, where do they all belong?I look at all the lonely people.I look at all the lonely people.Ella Marigby Died in the church and was buried alone with her name.Nobody came.Father MacKenzie Wiping the dirt from his hands as he walks from her grave.No one was saved.All the lonely people, where do they all come from?All the lonely people, where do they all belong? "
New York is a lonely city indeed...it seems to heighten every emotion you have. All the millions of people and it can make one melancholy. Was he melancholy? Will I have Ellas fate when I die? He began to play OVER THE RAINBOW. Just then, a squirrel came up to me, stared me right in the eye and invaded my social bubble with a bravness that I was spiritually lacking at the moment. Brave rodent! Brave me?
I strode back to the office, perhaps a bit spiritually renewed....and the office doors greeted me; reluctant, I walked through...enriched a bit by park magic and The Beatles.
Posted by Thadd Krueger at 2:32 PM