September 29th, 2006 11:02 AM
"As if I knew where I was going, I put on an air of choosing and changed my direction, taking a different street on my right, one that was better lit. "Broadway" it was called.
I came out to the city last weekend for the Manhattan journey, to hang out, help scout checkpoints, and chase. It was great, exhausting. I got blisters from walking and headaches from drama. The actual journey was intense; once you set something like that off there's no way to tell where or how it will go--just a mass of kids flowing through city lines, train lines, ley lines, constrictions and commuters. Things got confusing. I had no idea how many commuters there are in battery park at midnight, running from bowling green to the south ferry. I may have chased some of them acidentally. That all after scoldings in K-Town from passersby, alarmed at the sight of me running after seven girls up 5th avenue. "How dare he!" Indeed. And I must apologize to the player I spooked so bad near the fallback wall street checkpoint, coming up Broadway, that he ran smack into the wall of some bank, cowering, a shockingly memorable look of terror contorting his face. Personal Terrorism is totally the next shit. I didn't think to tag him, but offered my hands to help pull the kid off the street. He didn't take them. From the Battery beacon I made my way on foot up to chinatown, Nicol my Robinson and I hers, we constantly reappeared at each other's side. Lower Manhattan was a player killing fields, very few escaped untagged. Eventually I gave up searching and walked, strangely exultant, up to the final checkpoint. Everyone was out, Friday late on the Lower East Side, and the game had let me just loose enough to really enjoy one last epic traipse through the city. S'how it was.
Celine is right:
"Just plain living, what a drag! Life is a classroom, and boredom is the monitor, always keeping an eye on you, you have to look busy at all costs, busy with something fascinating, otherwise he comes and corrodes your brain. A day that's nothing more than a lapse of twenty-four hours is intolerable. Like it or not, a day should be one long, almost unbearable pleasure, one long coitus."
And walking home across the Pulaski bridge at 5am, my journey ending--
"Far in the distance the tugboat whistled; its call passed the bridge, one more arch, the another, the lock, another bridge, farther and farther... It was summoning all the barges on the river, every last one, and the whole city and the sky and the countryside, and ourselves, to carry us all away, the Seine too--and that would be the end of us.
I don't have any pictures. Sam and Sean have pictures.