THE LAST FIVE ...

Closing up shop
- Wednesday, Aug. 02, 2006

It may be time for a change
- Wednesday, May 17, 2006

Entry in the air
- Friday, April 21, 2006

Still here
- Thursday, April 20, 2006

Music of the moment
- Wednesday, March 1, 2006

Or ... BE RANDOM!


GOOD READS

101 in 1001
American Road Trip, 1998


OTHER PEOPLE

Chupatintas
Dancing Brave
Fugging It Up
Kitty Sandwich
Mister Zero
Sideways Rain
Ultratart
Velcrometer


THE BASICS

My crew
Latest
Older
Notes
Our host
Profile

2001-04-30 - 11:18 p.m.

I don't even know what to call this (suggestions welcome)

I heard a far-off crash, the sound of something breaking against concrete. It wasn't that far, just something small, tiny, light in weight but hitting the ground with a quick snap of a smack after the speed of gravity. A breeze blew through the dunegrass as I walked among the concrete ruins of the Sandy Hook Proving Ground and I looked up and saw the seagulls: Dropping clams on the cement, preparing their dinner, swooping in to eat the meat.

I sat down on old steps to nowhere, leading up to a chest-high platform that was once the foundation of one military fortification or another. I settled onto the second step, leaning my right arm on the next step, my back against the wall, my neck right at the edge so that I could tilt my head back and look straight into the darkening blue sky and listen to the birds and crickets around me.

The sun set behind me and off to the left; I faced the other way, watching the soft light fall over the proving ground and the paths to the beach, the observation tower visible over the dunes. Planes circled overhead, lining up to land at LaGuardia, JFK and Newark. A perfect first-quarter moon shone with a piercing whiteness straight above.

I walked out to the beach, trudging through the sand down to the waterline. The lights of New York sparkled across the water, dusk falling orange in the west. Flickering cars crossed the Verrazano from Staten Island to Brooklyn. I gazed out to Long Island, imagining the Mets playing the Astros somewhere among the all lights. The World Trade Center stood a little dim in the dusk, the Empire State stretched into the hazy horizon.

I turned back to walk across the sand, the lighthouse facing me, watching me, shining constantly, not rotating. A beacon a beckon? I felt its gaze following me, a spotlight trained on me half a mile away.

I strolled over to the car in the gravel parking lot and opened the windows. Night now fast approaching, I drove off with the perfect music for driving on a lonely grey evening swirling around me in the breeze.

I bet "A Knight's Tale" would look like a much better movie if it hadn't come out the summer after "Gladiator." I know it would've been in the works for a while, but it just seems like it's trying to play off the success of an action period piece.

This is the second scattered entry of the day. And what a day. I needed that drive along the Shore before. We had a meeting at work after a glaring snafu last week prompted a discussion. I was not directly involved, and it was a night off for me, but I went in nonetheless, as did another copy editor, Allison.

So figuring I'd be covering the baseball team next week, I made some plans for next Thursday, after a day game. There's a party that night and I was hoping to attend. Now I'm needed in the office. In a weird situation, three people will be out and I'm indispensable on this particular Thursday. Damn it all to hell.

So I needed some me time and when I got home, Dave had called and I returned it and we picked up some Italian ice and brought some over to our friend Gayle and her family and sat out on their deck in the dark talking baseball and eating our ice.

I'll say it again: Summer's fast approaching.

So you must read this. Read to the end. I have to admit I'm flattered. Embarrassed even. I'm sitting here by myself alone in my room, my computer on my lap, watching TV, and I'm probably blushing.

I only hope I've satisfied her with this one.

Previous page: Of flying machines and other things
Next page: Ah-CHOO!

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Yeah, sorry I have to be all legal on you here, but unless otherwise indicated, all that you read here is mine, mine, mine. But feel free to quote me or make fun of me or borrow what I write and send it out as an e-mail forward to all your friends, family and coworkers. Just don't say it's yours, you know?