Streets.
I’ve been on a “street” kick.
I know there are streets I can’t walk down without feeling a buzz of anxiety arcing from my chest.
India Street. North Sixth Street. Audubon Avenue. Seaman Avenue. East Eleventh Street. East Ninth Street. I do not go near Greenwich Avenue.
Wait---that’s not true. I have always been one to push myself emotionally. I will go near. I’ll walk down them. I’ll rub the salt in the wound. Do you guys know what I’m talking about? What is it about walking down a street that you used to walk down that makes you judge the way your life is today compared to what it was a year, five years ago?
What is about a certain street that makes you say, “I would like to live on this street.”?
I would like to know about your emotional connections to streets. I would like to know about the sex you have had on a street. Or in an apartment or house on that street. I would like to know about the street you grew up on. I would like to know what your favorite song about a street is. I want to know what street you lived on when you woke up the happiest. I would like to know what street broke your heart.
I live on a street on the west coast where there is a glorious tree at the end of the block. Everything in my area looks the same, but that tree is my landmark. This fucking tree. The lush greenery of it crosses so far into the road it almost touches the other side. You could live under it. It envelopes you. It looks amazing against the sky.
You will never see this tree. It makes me sad that you will never see this tree but it makes me happy because you probably have your own substitute for my tree.
Love,
Sleep.Snort.Fuck.
