Allergic to the city and all the things in it

Same day, different park. Same park different day. Same day same park different day different park all in one breath all in one long seamless stream of public places with all the same rules as you would imagine:

• Leash yr dog
• No loud music
• No skating/rollerblading
• Toss yr trash

This is equal parts boredom restlessness enjoyment driving me crazy. It is surplus of things to do and too many options time places and possibilities and the wonder of it (the damn crying shame of it) is you can do it as well alone.

Today the park is full of beautiful people. What I really want to do is follow them all home and see if they are beautiful there, or if it is just this dumb park conspiring with the sunshine to confuse me. I keep saying it is a cold that has me sniffling but if it is a cold it should not have lasted in this warmth and I should not still be sniffling.

Today the park is full of couples, and they are all laughing. What I really want to do is follow them around with a tape and a microphone and record all their smiles. To find out if they are in love with each other, or the city; and whether they would know the difference.

This city could kill you with its charm, even though it is one of the ways I would be glad to die. Do not read too much into this, please, it has just been a long month and I am finally coming out of it, alone in the park, sneezing.

I feel insane. I am drunk without touching a drop for 48 hours. I have wandered the city on my own, music in ears, books in hand. I have sat on the waterways and read and hours have taken off without me. I drink coffee and eat thin cake on my own in the company of the two large ladies who run the café. I watch characters galore parade through the city, the old black man with his white girlfriend, the plump beauties, the lesbian café diners. Every pretty couple.

Then my thoughts curve and jump and I feel ashamed to be part of this world. Prices on everything, chasing prizes, rising the ranks and competing with everything to be the best, the next, the biggest. Every scum and social soldier compete for a place in the race. It's an endurance race. We run and jump, dodge and weave, move around every other fast walker on the pavement. We look for a place amongst bare stone and steel, a place to escape, a place to feel. I am lost amongst intersections. Cars flash lights and strangers fuck and fight. Sleep if you can. Drink coffee to go again.

I think I am falling. I have to get out. Birds are calling me, trees await my slumbering underneath green boughs. Here are buskers and overhead walkways, the next best thing. I am diagnosed with insanity, because everyone knows, the city is the place to be. You'll come around. Kicked out the office, mix in the corridor, men with suits and bodies in aisle four.

Or maybe antibodies. I am allergic to the city and all the things in it.