SMELL THIS:

Freezing rain – burning coffee (Not Starbucks) – pine trees – cigarettes – truck exhaust… throw a little wet dog and soaking, sloppy trash smell in there, a little deep heating menthol rub (I decided to love it go figure…) and u are right with me… (right in my nostrils) this morning.

OK.
Now… PICTURE THIS:

Rows of west village brown stone buildings one shade darker than usual because of the rain.  The tree lined blocks are one shade greener… the garbage truckers and construction workers are in their “fuck you I’m wet” mode which basically means – get the fuck out of their way.  They deserve it.  they are the only ones i feel OK stopping for, or skirting around.  Every one else can go fuck themselves.  I’m running in the fucking WET rain. MOVE.

Also picture this… cute little Kids in rain boots… Tiny, little, yellow, rubber covered feet splashing in puddles… mixed in with giant work boots STOMPING in between the tiny boots.  Then picture some HOT over the knee leather boots (Side note: there’s a Steve Madden pair I’ve been eyeing and saw on a bunch of chicks this AM – think I’m going to get them) skirting the puddles but from time to time just stomping straight through them.

k… now… Listen to this:

Cell phone conversations… REALLY urgent ones.  IMPORTANT BUSY PEOPLE.  The holidays are coming up and clearly a few deals need to be closed before the 24th.. Subway sounds shaking the ground a little bit…  Not too much.  I never really notice it anymore to be honest but I’ve been making a point to sharpen my senses for my readers (oh wait I have no readers) so that i can really describe the NYC running experience from my perspective.  Also throw in a little Isan in there.  I listened to him for half my run.  So good. SO GOOD.  Go here: http://itunes.apple.com/us/album/meet-next-life/id39869998

Now feel this:

FUCCKKING COLD!!!! Fucking freezing (and LARGE) rain drops SMACKING my face!! I’m hardly awake!! Cold wind! More cold Wind!! Wind!!! blowing wind tunnels every now and then (23rd street and 11th ave – THE WORST!)

OH.
MY.
GOD.

After about ten minutes I’m fine – I feel really tough.  I disappear into my own world again.

Ahhh… sweet relief….  Where would I be without this?….

Running in freezing rain makes me feel like i deserve something.  That something could be… a private jet for instance.  Or… a house in Laurel Canyon.  Why do i feel this way? I don’t know.  It’s an accomplished sort of feeling and therefore i feel entitled.  I feel like I’m the rare case of “human that decided to go run in the freezing rain in the morning” so that should translate to the rare case of “human who owns a private jet”.  That’s how my mind works.

I also run past the helicopter pad on the west side highway almost everyday which I’m sure fuels these thoughts in some way.  It’s always filled with SUVs parked nearby and men in trench coats and tall blond women in aviators and Swiss Army jackets.  Bunch of tinted windows and black cars.  So hot.  It’s all so tough and hot and I like it and I want it.  Today I felt like I want to fly a plane and shoot a gun.  Weird.  Why a gun? I hate guns.  It’s tough though.  I didn’t actually want to shoot it at anyone.  It just went well with the outfit I was picturing myself in.

I’m not resenting the cold today.  It reminds me of being a tough New Yorker and I’m proud of it.  Living here makes u grow a set of balls.  even if you’re a girl.  Yup.  Grow a sack or get out.

Where am i going with this?… I just lost myself.  But let me interrupt myself to share a funny story I thought about during the meatpacking district part of my run (in 2003 I stepped on an fish eyeball there. Swear. Gross).  Anyway, my sister has two kids and one little PEENSY TEENSY one on the way.  She looks like she’s smuggling a basketball under her shirt….

Kids are cute (not all kids – only some) and HER kids are the bomb.  I mean… Loud and fucking funny but they also do what they are told.  Ok… now I made them sound like good dogs.  Anyway… one day Einat (my sister) takes a sea shell and shows it to Miriam (my 4 year old niece) and she goes on to explain what it is.  It went something like this:

Einat: Miriam this is a seashell.  You can find a lot of these by the sea.  Isn’t it pretty?

Miriam: Yeeeeeeah…

Einat: look at the colors

Miriam: Yeeeeahhhh… (only my family knows how she drags out her YEEEAH’s – it’s amazingly hysterical)

Einat: ok put it against your ear.  You can hear the sound of the ocean

Miriam: Mommy… that’s not the ocean.  That’s the subway slowing down.

BOOM.  There you go.
That’s a NYC kid.
Brilliant.

Parents are definitely responsible for teaching their kids how to survive in this city and I think they grow up to be street smart, tough kids.  (Example: this AM in Chelsea some chick was rooting for her 2 foot child who was holding a 2 foot wide umbrella to just “GO Devin! GO Devin! Just PUSH!!”  Devin pushed away and I almost stepped on him.  Honestly.. he looked like he would have been fine if i did)

I may be talking out of my ass here.. I don’t have kids and I haven’t tried raising my non-kids in NYC so i don’t really know but I think they grow up tough… In a good way.

Side note: No true New Yorker feels responsible for more than half a square inch of their umbrella on the sidewalk.  You want to run into my shit and poke your eye out? Go for it.  Not my problem.

Another Side note: I ran past Sala this AM and realized its been a while – gotta go back there.  I love their red wine.  I love how dark it is in there.  I love Tapas.

My friend, Logic, sent me a text this AM quoting Jim Carey: “May good fortune hit u before U have time to talk yourself out of it”

Guess what Logic: The rain hit me over and over again this morning. And it felt like good fortune (after about 10 minutes).  I didn’t talk myself out of it.  There u go.  I really listened to you and Jim