New York = High Speed Elektro-Shatner Late Night Beats
New York, I had never been until last week.
First Impressions:
“Whoah.”
Lasting Impressions:
“160mph Shatner”
Let me explain,
You materialize right in the middle of Manhattan from up and out of the ground. You stand, defensive and ready¬–on alien terra forma, saying melodramatic things, “We’ve got to get to 7th Street, this is 7th Avenue,” or “I thought Queens was in Brooklyn” or “This is pronounced How-ston not Hew-ston.” The landscape is alien¬–buildings of unnatural size loom gigantic above. You hustle at their feet, north and south, east and west are all the same. The hum is deafening–a thousand iron cicadas. Amongst the buildings, you could be anywhere on the island, or nowhere on earth, but the prices tell you you’re somewhere. The millions humming and buzzing around you–all there on auto-pilot, driving up the price of one another’s rent. The cacophony makes you nauseous, and you head indoors seeking the familiar: warmth, a chair, food, a table, some music. The nausea worsens, the pathogens produced by millions of tightly packed, highly stressed humans, the particulate matter, the cold–you become ill, you’ve lost contact with the Enterprise.
Then, out of chaos you find it– the rhythm, racing past you grab it and hold on, making it your own. The subways make sense, east and west are again polarized, and you begin to hum. You are the cacophone, yet the rhythm finds you. Like William Shatner at 160mph, incredibly, the rhythm finds you.
