From the Brooklyn Bridge to the Ox Cart

When you get kicked whilst you are down it sometimes makes you not want to get up again, you feel an intrinsic level of worthlessness when you’re in the dark recesses of kerbside gutter thinking and a quiet choking supercedes any teeny tiny light of hope at the end of the poxy tunnel you’re supposed to be holding onto…. if however, you’re one of those lucky bastards who has an innate will that overcomes all hardships and kickings, you’ll get up again..
Lucky for me my will seems to be unstoppable.. I’m thousands of miles from home (if you can call a defunct postcode a home, it’s the only remaining piece of identity I can actually offer as to my current definition of ‘home’) and I’m reeling from a couple of mental kickings from folk that are oblivious to having a bit of consideration to another’s sensitivity and mental state of well being, on top of which I am without that special someone to pick me up, brush me down and hug and tell me that everything is going to be alright… So it was hardly surprising that I therefore found myself not wanting to get out of bed (yes I was lucky enough to have a temporary bed, with a roof over my head so it’s not all bad).. Not like the troubled souls who frequently ride the metro from one end to the other just so they can keep warm and sleep…

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Herein, on a cold NYC morning in South Midwood, Brooklyn my general state of mind was glum blue with a pinch of my stalwart tendency to ideate on the passing to the other side and thus I had to have a serious chat with myself…(due to unforeseen circumstances I can no longer allow myself the pleasure of ideation for too long seeing as one of my siblings beat me to the banister and so as not to be double selfish towards my parents and remaining sibling I must re-wire quickly)… So, I sat up and asked myself why had I flown thousands of miles to such an amazing city to not make something of it…kicking or no kicking…

I like bridges.. They inspire me to jump.. Or leap.. Not necessarily literally (although I sense it a euphoric way to go) but the inspiration to ‘just do it’ was just what I needed to get me out from under my miserable covers.
So I got up, showered (another luxury) and dressed as warm as possible.. I put my headphones on, plugged into Nirvana and took my arse to the local downtown metro and made my way to the Brooklyn Bridge…

I alighted at Clark Street and decided to go eat, I hadn’t felt like eating earlier but for some reason my appetite had kicked in (always a good sign of positive re-wiring) and so I found my self in a little cafe on the corner of Pineapple Street…
Hot chocolate and a BLT bagel for under $5… An absolute cheering bargain..

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With a renewed sense of self I put a spring in my step and made way to the stairs that would lead me onto the bridge..
Immediately upon stepping out onto the bridge I felt recovered from the ‘kicking whilst down feeling’ and again re-learned and understood how important ‘will’ is on the road to survival… Had I stayed under the sheets in darkness I would have missed the recuperation process of this milestone crossing…

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… And the love locks

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Made me think about whose love I’d like to padlock (if indeed that’s a healthy hearty thing to do),…

With spirit lifted I did then decide to text a newfound friend and enquire as to their Friday night plans and if I could tag along…

Through the course of the day and the power of the will my rather bleak start transformed into one of exhilaration and fun… I met said new friend and followed him to ‘The Ox Cart’, described by said new friend as ‘the nearest thing to a pub as you can get round here’… Turned out to be quaint and served better food than any UK pub I’d been to in recent times…

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I liked the quirky menu and the cross continental eclectic mix of employee too… I laughed a lot and, for the record, have laughed a lot since… All’s well that ‘will’ allows…

Next bridging venture shall be the manhattan to get a shot of the brooklyn from the other side…

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