"Today’s homework assignment: In one hundred and fifty words or less, describe one of the happiest days of your life."* I'm a rich person to have a kind of option paralysis in the face of this assignment. It's a day I've written of before, but it stands out in memory. * * * A day… Continue reading A glance back before the changing of the guard at midnight
[A thing I’ve been meaning to write about, but have been waiting to see how it affects, beyond initial denial and impatience.] Twelve hours after landing back in Brooklyn from New Mexico, I sustained a godawful injury to my right foot under the most mundane circumstances. Went for x-rays the next day, as it was impossibly… Continue reading The vulnerability of connective tissues
This is T. He's the third cat we've had at the Farm (since I was a child) named Tigger, but we roll like kids here, and a fitting or familiar name can always be used more than once. (Farm folk are pragmatists.) He's the sweetest cat I've known in a long time— serious; takes some time… Continue reading Having arrived at the Farm for Christmas
There was a woods across the street from the farm. On the far side of of a large corn field, then through an encircled meadow that remained un-tilled, too inaccessible for farming. A small woods through which ran a narrow, banked ribbon of stream. In winter it was the most beautiful place I could find. I'd make… Continue reading a long ago winter place
When I woke I discovered my heart cast shadows longer than dreams in places where we moved as children, cured of fear, and never looked back. Sometimes when I wake I write down my dreams, or the bits I can remember. If I wake with the territory intact, I map it. The drawings are invariably simple, as… Continue reading Cartography of the subconscious
This feels senseless, irreparable. I know it's not. It's a direct hit, though. A different kind of heartbreak; More subtle, maybe— unexpected. More reckless, it feels. Unavoidable, now: you've crossed the Rubicon. The kaleidoscope has lost some of its color. How do I relearn living (again)? Who will help me make sense of things? Who’ll… Continue reading This is how the data is interpreted
The one who’s been the most present for over four years has gone. Left in a car packed with all he owns on a bright cold Sunday, December. Left a scar. We walked around the neighborhood late last night lamenting the change. Still almost not understanding or accepting— but a dawning sense. Still to come—… Continue reading Sad days ahead
It hit me last night— Zac’s last day in Brooklyn is in eight days. It’s cast a sudden melancholy pall on the holiday weekend, a Sunday sadness, and I’ve found myself thinking about how different my life will be when he's gone. We've been practically inseparable for over four years; a significant friendship, and solid. In… Continue reading A soon farewell
Over the past month, Zac and I have had a fair few intense conversations. About All the Things. (His life is in Big Change mode. He is, reluctantly and after hard choices, leaving New York for a spell.) Reaction. Regret. Assumption. Presumption. Family. Work. Life. Future. Past. Friendship. Love. The upshot (and down) is that there's no end to Learning. (If you're lucky.)
Autumn, like Spring, is adventure time. Wander time. I’ve been filling up on these. You decide an initial direction or destination, from there you follow your feet, or state of mind. You flow. Chasing miles. Chasing the magic hour. Moonrise. It's nice to chase it all in my own city; the deepening blue, jeweled with lights of infrastructure and the… Continue reading A philosophical pedestrianism
e daggar art: THE MUSEUM 