Salsa Studio

I was walking down Fifth Ave. the other night, listening to music, swinging my arms, and was able to stop and stare for a long while at a second-floor dance studio. I watched couples learning to salsa while I waited for the light to change.

Seeing glimpses into homes, stores, restaurants - I love it.

I wish I had an invisible cloak.

I don't want to be a creep - I just want to SEE EVERYTHING.

I walked for some time, ending up on top of Sunset Park watching the sky turn red behind Manhattan. I could not help but feel a burst of regret about having squandered my time living one block away from the best place to see the night fall.

street walkin joy

chocolate lab prancing down columbus with his nose sniffing the air.

ladies!

heyyyyyyyyyy!

DEATH BY ADORABLE!

This little girl is KILLING ME! hahahahahahahahahahaha

to hear.

hearing jenny read her poetry made me swell a little bit. i guess i was feeling overwhelmed with emotion because she taught me poetry, brought out a little part of me i didn't know too well or didn't want to know. and the world should hear you, jenny. really. the humor is hiding around the corner, pokin' atcha pokin' atcha.

i thought of brattleboro. and the moose we saw. and the coney island teddy bear.

and sometimes i'm so overwhelmed by the people i know, particularly these strong women. really. it is amazing and breathtaking.

this tuna sandwich.

this tuna sandwich, the one i'm having for dinner, brings me joy. it is because i made it and it is so delicious. i'm talking a nice, solid white albacore. celery. mayonnaise. a nice consistency, though. not too dry, not too wet. ground pepper. salt. dried garlic and oregano. all of that hanging out together.

then i toasted one of those everything bagels from fairway. you know those bagels. lots of seeds and such. garlic. toasted up and then i put the tuna, a fat slice of provolone, some tomatoes and lettuce. more pepper.

so. damn. good.

joy.

train as memoryship

This morning, as the train came up from under Brooklyn Cat Stevens' The Wind started playing - perfectly in time with our release onto the bridge.

The light of the morning was not grey nor white - just sort of dulled natural. I stared out and did not really look at everything I could see. I thought of Harold playing banjo on the cliff. Then I thought of every boy I pined for as a girl. I did not see memoryboys beyond faces - flipped through each face. A memorydeck of girlhood boycards.

Floating into Chinatown I thought of this photograph of my Da as a blonde boy - he is maybe eleven - has a freckled goofy face. The photograph shows one beautiful piece of his hair that is being blown up away from his head - is caught in the wind. I thought of that bit of hair; I thought me too.