day eight isn't over yet, but the relevant part almost certainly is. i woke up on a really good night of sleep for the first time in several weeks, or so i thought anyway; it took the city all of three hours to kill that. and i'm not really sure how; i didn't venture out, just stayed home relaxing, and within three hours i felt awful.

now, i know this kind of bleary awful, and in california i know how to fix it: go outside! i have many refreshing destinations there, like the marina, pacifica, ocean beach, tilden, etc.. heck, even just walking around various neighborhoods in san francisco is relaxing and revitalizing. so naively, i decided to go for a walk, only to (of course) discover that manhattan is nothing of the sort. i almost literally stumbled around for a while and then on intuition more than anything else i went down into the land of silver capsules, the subway, the only thing i think is really outstanding about the city. i went into the west 4th station and caught the first train that came, a downtown a, and took a seat and leaned back and closed my eyes and listened to stars (the band, not the metaphor.)

after thirty minutes of this, i actually did feel a lot better. and i realized that the subway actually is the place to go to relax; there are people, but the white noise blocks all the medium-distance chatter out, leaving you with only the short-distance solace of your ipod. for the first time since i've been here, i _did_ feel like i had a place to escape, maybe not quite so good as its california homologues, but worthwhile, and for the low low price of two dollars, $1.67 even.

when i emerged from the cocoon, i found myself in brooklyn, and so i got off at hoyt-schermerhorn. i called danielle, whose neighborhood i was in, but she was still in the hamptons, so i resolved to take whichever train came first unless it was another queens-bound a or c. as it turned out, this was a brooklyn-bound g, so i took it to its terminus and repeated. and standing on the platform at smith and 9th was amazing. the wind was blowing; we were above the local buildings, just me and a few other passengers, none smoking. so there was fresh air, and a wind, and it was a nice temperature, and i actually did feel like i had carved out a very small piece of nature there in new york.

and then a homeless man came up to me and asked for money and broke the spell. i pretended not to hear him, trying to channel it, and eventually he walked away (i believe after having called me crazy, though i wasn't paying much attention and, god bless this city, in my 90 % state my accidental paying of attention goes way down.) but it did ruin it, just a little.

and eventually i grabbed a manhattan-bound f, and came home. disaster averted. so after having overcome probably my most serious hurdle to date as far as emotional stability goes, i'm still sane and still alive at the virtual end of day eight.

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