10202010

Someone walked up to me today and handed me a box of fried chicken and a bag of bananas. I think maybe they thought I was somebody else. Too weird. There were other people around and they didn't seem concerned about it - just plowed into it when I put it on the table next to me. 

There's these places in hotel banquet rooms, airport offices, conference rooms in various buildings etc where people just generally graze. Its too weird. I wouldn't have sought it out on purpose. I've worked places where people just walk up to you and tell you "eat this". Today there was also cake somebody made where I happened to be hanging out. Amazing.

I have this idea about an experiment. What if I only ate things that someone gave me? Its not a cheapness issue. I've struggled most of my adult life with extra padding. What if I just never bought anymore food? I think the rules would have to include not soliciting the food. I wonder how I would fare?  If you are walking down the street and you see an apple tree with a branch dangling one choice specimen over the sidewalk (public right of way)is that ok?

I'd have to exclude the green fairy of course. That's not food.

I think I need to just keep putting one foot in front of the other while I figure some things out...

Parks Parks Parks

Spent an economical night in the Gershwin hotel. It was the name that charmed me but I really just needed to get off the street.  The next day I stayed a bit longer at Belvedere Castle than I meant to. The fog threw me. Had to back track to 79th and spent a bit more than I wanted to. Had to overcome some apprehension about paying cash. Wondered if that would be acceptable. I'm out of my element here.

Still looking for a cell phone charger. Backpack in a bit heavy though lacking things I need and hardly full. Bricks and parks and traffic, repeat. Crossed a river? Am I going in circles? Need to scratch up a better map than the one I found  in the hotel lobby. Going a bit sciatic. Awful lot of parks I've seen in the last 48 hours or so. Trees... squirrels... people...cars...

Having muddled dreams about numbers...almost think I remember that pin number then I wake up. 

Note I took from the dream moods website http://www.dreammoods.com/dreamthemes/numbers

Fourteen

The number fourteen signifies the unexpected and your need to adapt to  ever-changing circumstances. It is also symbolic of overindulgence and how you are giving too much into your desires. You need to show more restraint and maintain focus on your goals. 

This in a little green notebook I found in a pocket in my bag. I scribble little things in there sometimes if I read something that gives me an idea for something to write, do or investigate later. Odd coincidence that this number was also the date for that day. It speaks volumes about where my heads been for quite some time. Trying to tell myself something. Muse.

I need to make a decision about whether to hop a plane or a bus (cash being a factor) and get the heck out of here or figure out what it is I'm trying to do. Walking feels good for the moment but I might get tired of it sooner than I think.

10-10-10

Letter to Mr Ramone James:

Dear Ram,

Woke up at 10am this morning in Brooklyn. A bus driver shook me awake. I stumbled out onto the street in front of a plus size vintage resale store. Interesting people there. Sort of a body lovin place. Under normal circumstances I'd fit right in, but things are not normal for me today. There seems to be a number of hours missing after a night that was supposed to start with Absinthe tasting. For starters I was nowhere near New York when it all began. Absinthe is awesome but very likely not responsible for my current situation...the story would be better if that was it.

 
I believe it was supposed to be a rather timid evening. Coffee with friends, I'm not certain which ones or that I actually got there but I remember heading out to my car around sundown. It was an impressive fall sunset and I stopped to drink it in. The pink lights filtered through bruised clouds over a strip mall parking lot. A parking lot very far from Brooklyn. Ah well, I need to get to the point.

Being very unfamiliar with most of the eastern part of the country, my current location is perplexing. I seem neither molested nor divested of property.  I have my favorite flannel jacket and my Nikes on. My favorite traveling bag has a variety of odds and ends, postage, bags of pizzells to nibble on, a change of undies, etc. There must have been some kind of plan when this all started. I have a modest amount of cash in my wallet, an iPod and my Sony mp3 player, and my cell phone. What I don't have is my phone charger and I can't seem to remember the pin to my debit card. Being Sunday this means I will have to wait until the banks are open and find a place to buy a charger for my prehistoric cell.

To alleviate my anxiety I am writing you this letter.Your address I can remember after years of daily missives.  I walked most of the day looking for a map. NYC is more complicated than I can wrap my head around. I just want somebody to know where I've turned up but things are okay at this point. Enclosed is a key to my place. See if you can find the pin top my debit card. Its in the little green notebook at the back of the bottom desk drawer. Text me the number and I'll get it when I find a charger for my cell.. I'll call you when I can.

Legs are sore. Off to look for a mail drop and an reasonable place to spend the evening. If you get this you'll know I found at least one of the things I was hunting.

Regards,
Billie Fremont