11/30/2009 § Leave a comment
it was dark. i descended the elevators worried about how late i was. the elevator doors finally opened – val and the boys stood ready, waiting to greet me. they looked so good, dressed in black tie.
was that him… ?
he and i exchanged quiet smiles. hearts flutterred. suddenly whatever i had been busy doing didn’t matter anymore.
i asked them to wait as i quickly snuck into a room of broken mirrors, lit only by the dim light in the next room. i filled in my eyebrows a shade darker, my lips a rosy gloss. i was ready.
peggs joined us as we stepped out the door. we were eager for the city lights and what grand adventures awaited us on this night.
11/27/2009 § Leave a comment
“I MUST LEARN TO LOVE THE FOOL IN ME — THE ONE WHO FEELS TOO MUCH, TALKS TOO MUCH, TAKES TOO MANY CHANCES, WINS SOMETIMES AND LOSES OFTEN, LACKS SELF-CONTROL, LOVES AND HATES, HURTS AND GETS HURT, PROMISES AND BREAKS PROMISES, LAUGHS AND CRIES. IT ALONE PROTECTS ME AGAINST THAT UTTERLY SELF-CONTROLLED, MASTERFUL TYRANT WHO I ALSO HARBOR AND WHO WOULD ROB ME OF HUMAN ALIVENESS, HUMILITY, AND DIGNITY BUT FOR MY FOOL.”
THEODORE I. RUBIN, MD
11/27/2009 § 2 Comments
my sister and i arrived at penn station early, which meant sausage mcmuffin time at mickey d’s. i was thankful for that. on our way to the airport, my side of the train looked out onto fields of long grass and small creeks reflecting the trees around it. i was thankful for that.
we arrived at the airport so early we were able to hop on an earlier flight. i was thankful for that. the two opened seats on that flight were at the very front, and next to each other. i was thankful for that. we arrived in dallas two hours earlier which meant more time at home, yay. i was thankful for that. the family was able to pick us up at this earlier time which meant more time with each other. i was thankful for that.
we piled into the car and traded stories all the way out of the airport. i was thankful for that. i received good wishes from friends near and far. i was thankful for that. we were soon greeted by the texas highway and its wide open spaces. i was thankful for that.
my mom spoke up as she saw me stare out of the window:
“are you looking at the sky, my daughter ?
you love the sky so much. it is so big.”
i smiled. it really is, mom. i’m thankful for that. and everything that comes with it.
11/25/2009 § 4 Comments
i missed him today.
there was a fire, and i don’t mean a fire in the we-burn-for-each-other kind, but a real honest to goodness fire with flames and smoke that had grown large and threatening within an arm’s length of me we were that close. the thrilling, suffocating smell of danger closed in on us as we ran down the stairs, away from our offices and unsaved work. it stopped just short of the entrance we left behind us.
in the sunlight, it was clear we were going to be okay; we smiled at each other in relief.
it hit me then.
i wanted to call him and let him know that for a fraction of a second, i felt my heart skip two beats: the first originating in fear, the second in sadness. i wanted to hear him whisper babe one more time, to detect a hint of worry in his outwardly calm demeanor, to hear him sigh with relief that i was safe. i wanted to be reassured, perhaps selfishly, that if i were to be gone tomorrow, there was one person outside my family whose world might shatter, suspend, or both, for an indecent amount of time and it would be him. i wanted to come home to his arms later that evening and feel them squeeze the breath out of me the way they do when we don’t see each other for weeks. in our time together, we were always traveling, or moving, or apart.
but i didn’t.
and he didn’t.
i missed him today. and he’ll never know. i wonder how he is.
11/23/2009 § Leave a comment
“one day, i thought — fuck it — and i went out. the streets were heaving with people. i felt very alive. i kept walking and walking, through the east village and then down and back along long roads. my mind started opening up, and my heart lifted. it was there on st. marks, that i discovered black sparrow press and all the books that would change my life. suddenly, it didn’t matter to me that i didn’t know anyone. the city had adopted me, taken me into her arms, loved me for everything i had been, was then, and was to become one day. i belonged somewhere, for the first time.”
i’m reading these love letters to america and i’m tearing. a lot of the ones that strike home are incidentally about new york. i don’t know what it means other than i can relate. in the 1.5 years that i’ve lived here, i’ve grown to love new york more than i ever expected to. in fact, before i came, i was sure that the real new york would not match the new york i dreamt of all these years. it’s so cliche to gush about this place, but it feels right, and rings true to my soul. walt whitman says i shouldn’t ever accept anything less.
11/22/2009 § Leave a comment
“It was my birthday yesterday. I’m 25. I feel just the same as I’ve always been. I hear people ask –or, nevermind, I heard people SAY “Gosh, I’m [age], I’m so old.” I don’t feel old yet. I just feel current.”
TOM DESLONGCHAMPS (clap twice)
i just feel current, too. not young not old. just here, and now. it’s nice.