So, first it was a DSL-service-provider-imposed net restriction, but that was lifted around two weeks ago. After which I ought to have a really legitimate reason for keeping away, but I don't. All I have is, I've been really busy of late. But of all the blogs I wrote when I was "in seclusion" this is the only one I'll post, simply because the others were mere day-to-day ramblings :) so here goes. This was written on Saturday August 20th, 2005, around mid-day.
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Maryland, 2003
There's an overhead bridge near my house.
The broad expanse of I-695 runs east-west two blocks away from home. At night sometimes I can hear the sirens screaming and feel the wheels of some large Mack truck causing a slight shudder on my bedroom floor. During the day I walk out past the other houses whose tenants I greet, the grass playing near my feet, the summer sun hot, uncompromising. I make my way to the bridge over the eight lanes of I-695, four running either way. I stand on the bridge, above the center of the freeway. I see the cars zoom by, out from under me. It feels queer. Sometimes I shift slightly to see them zoom by the other way, towards me. They seem like they're headed straight toward me, and a little chill hits my spine every time the vehicle zooms past. It occurs to me that were I at ground level, I'd have converged to crushed skull and splattered blood by now. It's almost strange to see those cars zoom into me and still be alive after it. The grass smells green, chlorophyllic. Somewhere closeby someone's mowing a summer lawn. It's getting less warm and I can stand on the bridge and see the sun go down in the west. Headlights and tail-lights go on, and the highway is a play of red on one end and yellow on the other. I like the evening lights, they offset the dark in more than just the one literal way. The occasional cricket calls out but its sound is drowned by the harsh noise of the freeway. It is a sound I love, a testimony to the triumph of man over nature.
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Chicago, 2005
There's an overhead bridge near my house.
The broad expanse of I-290 runs east-west two blocks away from home. I walk across the bridge on my way to and fro my "friendly neighborhood post office". I stop a third of the way across the bridge, and see the cars go one way. At a third of the bridge on the other end, I feel the sudden jolt as the cars zoom straight into me. Looking down, right at the center of the bridge, I can see the rails of the Chicago metro system glinting in the sun. Once in a way a train rushes past, accompanied by the loud rhythmic clackity-clickity-clack of the wheels on the rail. To the east I can see downtown Chicago, her buildings topped with communication antennae, sun against their glass windows. I can imagine the bustle and the rush in the city, the people, the color and life. Once in a while I can smell the breeze from over the lake, see the trees on the side of the freeway sway, hear the leaves rustle. As dusk takes over the city, I can see the most beautiful skyline in the country in sharp focus against the blue of the night. Lights come on one after another. The city seems to take on the hard glitter of diamond. There, towering over all the commercial buildings, is the magnificent Sears Tower. It is joy to be a resident of this city, pride in the fact that I can lay claim to a window in an apartment that shows me this skyline at night.
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All said and done, I still miss Maryland.
