Good morning, Monday.
There are indeed certain mornings in New York where the sky yawns and the lethargy of gloom takes you to another place, a warm place where they play Neil Young and sip hot beverages and stretch with arms overhead. Such a familiar coziness to this very gloomy Monday- the Manhattan Bridge shrouded in fog and everyone walking by in a bit of a haze. If you happen to be in this neck of the woods today, I suggest putting a little Neil Young on Spotify and enjoy the sleepy solitude of this moody Monday, I'm all about Manhattan feeling like Wuthering Heights. And because of this shadowy ghost of a morning, I'm not quite awake, but I'm not sleeping either. I'll take this in between-ness as I hold a requiem for the weekend that went way too fast. And listen to Neil Young and how he used to date Picasso. I'm driftin' back...Neil Young is simply the best accompaniment to a sludgy day such as this. And since we've been chatting, the buildings usually quite visible outside my window are completey gone. Poof. Like that. Fog rolling in deep...
Cause that's what's up this mister of a Monday in the 212. The builidngs outside my window are barely there, and I'm reminded of Less than Zero and am definitely going to "disappear here", so stop looking for me. XO
Here's a link to a Neil favorite, "After the Gold Rush"...divine: