Tonight, I couldn't sleep too well. I was thinking about a lot of things. I decided to make a couple of birthday resolutions. I think it makes more sense to make resolutions on one's birthday, rather than on New Year's Day. Resolutions are a gift to oneself, after all; a promise to oneself to improve and to do things better.
I am going to write every day. If even a little bit. If even a line. You may or may not see it here, diary. It may be somewhere else. I was tempted to say it may be written "in my head," but that's cheating. No, I will WRITE something everyday, and it will be either on paper (remember paper?) or on a computer screen. And I am going to write different things. I've already started.
I will read something every day. Actually, that's not a resolution, I already do that. I will read something different, something I am not particulalry drawn to, every day. Yes, I will make myself read something that couldn't interest me less. Something from Zack's wrestling magazine, say. Peter's sailboat newsletter, maybe. Or the sports page from the New York Post. You never know where you might get an idea.
And I am going to walk over the George Washington Bridge. Not today. Not tomorrow. Some strategizing is involved.
I would have to do it on a weekend, obviously. And on a day it's not too cold. Or raining. I might slip and fall.
I have to figure out how to get to the walkway. I've never approached the George Washington Bridge from anywhere but the highway. I don't even begin to know where to find the walkway. It's probably not half as difficult to find it as I imagine it to be. I'm just not approaching it from the right vantage point.
I have to decide, once I'm up there, whether to walk closer to the roadway or closer to the slatted fence that runs along the side of the bridge. From what I have observed from my car, that fence is sort of open. Not so open you could actually fall through or anything. But open enough for me to imagine in my overheated little brain that it could happen, which might be enough to freeze my feet in their tracks. But if I walk closer to the roadway with the cars whizzing past, I might feel inclined to jump away, which would be back in the direction of that fence, and well, there you go again.
I have to decide if I need somebody with me, or if I can do it alone. I know myself, I could get out there, a quarter of the way, maybe even halfway across, and suddenly find myself not able to go any further, nor able to turn around and head back. Just be stuck there clutching onto a post or some metal thing that one would find in the middle of the George Washington Bridge. Then what would I do? Jesus. It would have to be the right person, naturally. Someone who could combine the right degree of encouragement, with the critical characteristic of knowing when is the right time to stop, remembering that tomorrow is another day. It would have to be someone who understands why I want to do this. Even though I'm not sure I do.
There would have to be a ride on the other side to take me back across. A taxi stand, or a bus stop maybe. I couldn't face making it across, only to have to turn around and do it again.
Though it might be easier the second time.