i have the memory span of a goldfish.

it seems as if i have somehow forgotten how to work in the two weeks first spent eating bagels, and then recapping life in tokyo. perhaps it was the carb-overdose (dem bagels!). or moving back in time as i stood on the decks overlooking tokyo bay (and then forgetting to move back to 2008). or just those antibiotics that made the world spin round and round for a whole week and then some more. i have been walking around feeling (and likely looking) dopey and stunned since hitting home soil; i forget what i have to do the second after receiving the instruction (i beat the goldfish!); my brain rejects anything remotely resembling work, and the most intelligent things i have done since then was to read half of brave new world, and send a sarcastic email to the Agency From Hell That Owes Me Three Months’ Worth of Money. more than just being a goldfish… i am a stoned goldfish that keeps banging into the glass wall of the bowl and wondering why. a blonde goldfish. that’s it.

i was listening to the radio on the way to work this morning. one of those morning shows with two chirpy hosts and a bunch of corny jokes and uplifting morning music. (in case i lose my credibility, i didn’t tune in to it. it was the cabbie.) for some reason, they started talking about the movie psycho (possibly in relation to halloween? i don’t know). so the male host goes, it’s an old movie but it can sure scare the… the… (tripping and tumbling over his words for a while. and then…) …the… little brown things right out of you. passenger in backseat thinks huh??? male host thinks jolly good save!

i suppose they are not supposed to use words that refer to excrement (or sex, for that matter) on air. but little brown things? err. hmm. a little too graphic and literal for me. why not say hell? or crap? or are those taboo too?

just a little rant over nothing. as always. hitting your head against glass (again! and again!) does that to you.

truth be told… i’m really.quite.worn.out.

new york was supposed to be loads of crazy fun and excitement (and it is, really, quite enjoyable) but at some point in time between taking random shots of neon lights and policemen on patrol horses (one of whom butted me with its nose today. the horse, not the policeman), the need for some quiet and solitude started poking me in the ribs.

i love new york; at least, parts of it. i love the quaint little bookstores and cafes tucked away in west village, the loads of coffee, the brick buildings, and the dogs being walked down every street and corner. but it is so hard to hear your own thoughts in this city. everything else demands your attention… demands it loudly and insistently. our train goes one way to manhattan and the other to brighton beach, and i find myself wondering what brighton beach is like.

there are sights and sounds here that i would rather not have encountered. certain memories still surface a little too easily – i had meant for new york to distract me from them, but memories are contrary creatures, and i am but a weak-willed one.

tomorrow should be a leisurely day, spent partly with lady liberty and the financial moguls on wall street (likely to be depressed moguls right now…) it’s turned really cold now, with just a hint of winter in the air. i seek comfort in the company of hot chocolate and homemade brownies, and attempt to banish emotions that have no part in this holiday, with new shoes and cable.