The River

Sep 19, 2009 by     No Comments    Posted under: Thousands of Stories

I went for a run by the river. I listen to a lot of upbeat, club, hip-hop music when I run because I would fall over without a rhythm. If someone were to steal my ipod, I wouldn’t be able to function. This theory has been tested and this result is the truth.

Let me preface, before I go any further, that I am depressed. I am not mildly depressed or kinda feeling blue – I am severely depressed. I wake up every day with the same ominous cloud overhanging that reads:

You have nothing here.

What am I doing? I know why I am here, I know what I am meant to do with my life, and yet I continue to feel lost. I feel like a useless and unwanted member of society. So, I ran. I ran to get away from my thoughts and to get away from myself. I ran to get away from not having a job and not having any theatre work and feeling fat and ugly and unwanted. I ran from my own judgment. I ran uptown and then I ran downtown all the while looking at couples holding hands and men walking tiny little dogs. I ran past hookers seducing sad men on benches and lots of rush hour traffic. I ran by buildings turning on all of their lights as the light from the sky went dark. I ran by the water.

The water: it can make you feel so small. And I decided: I will not go home. I will, instead, sit by the water and appreciate this city that I am in. I will have some River time. So, I chose a bench and I sat. As I looked out into the current, I was hypnotized. And, of course, me being me, I started to think something to the effect of: oh, this water is constantly flowing even though it has to navigate around these streets, the trash below, and the current moving in the opposite direction. And then I thought:

That’s crap.

Sometimes, we spend too much time in metaphors and not enough time sucking up reality and just living our damn lives. I am an artist, a writer, and a dreamer. It is hard for me to not think in metaphors and fantasize about some grand purpose. It is hard for me to not sit by the river and cry because I am alone and think “deep” thoughts like:  “isnt it interesting how hands fit together.”

I think these things.

I actually thought that.


I thought that. That’s what I have accomplished with my day.

I think these stupid, unnecessary, waste of time things all day! Especially when ‘Konstantine’ suddenly comes on my ipod the moment that two couples sit beside me.

But these thoughts, for whatever it is worth, they do make me happy. The only good in my life are these thoughts and this blog because, at least with this blog, I am contributing something. These thoughts get me through the day. Or at least they do until I look back at myself and think: what the hell are you doing? New York doesnt care if you’re a beautiful soul! New York is cut throat and out to get ahead.

I am not getting ahead because I am lost in a dream world in my own head.

So I run. I run again. I run from my own self condemnations. I run from dreaming. I run from failing. I run from the river and from wasting time. I run from dwelling on what is wrong in my life. I run from mulling to and fro about my “purpose.” I run from insecurities and from doubt. I run. My knees are swollen, my back and shoulders ache, my ears are throbbing from the music being so loud but I run.

I used to tell myself that if I just ran for five more minutes that I would be famous. That that is what would set me apart from all of the other people in the world who just can’t catch a break. Recently I haven’t been running. I have been dreaming. I will keep fucking running, God damnit.

A hero is no braver than an ordinary man, but he is braver five minutes longer – Raplh Waldo Emerson