one thing today

  Sometimes when I have nothing to read I scroll thru these posts and sometimes think to myself - hey, that's not too bad, that's kind of interesting ... that photo or description of something that's happened somewhere sometime during my day - the street being always and anywhere the bearer of amusement, wisdom, novelty, presence. I live in the best town for that - everything from a to z and back again. it's all there. all here. everyday. lucky. nice. what will transpire today? I'll post tomorrow. 

  I'm moving to the top floor of my building. My rich next door neighbors want to expand into my apartment. They offered me an offer I couldn't refuse. The best part is the Empire State Building and wide sky out all my windows. Madison told me she loved to see what color it was at night while she was at her kitchen sink. It flashed red on Valentines Day. 

  My good friend M sent me this New Yorker cartoon a lotta years ago - knowing I worship Joni and that we both had boots like Cartoon Woman in our yuuut. They were ridiculously impractical.  It took a ridiculous amount of time to lace them up and they weren't comfortable. But they were a statement. We were both just out of college and basked in the fact that we were making a little $$$ and could afford something ridiculous and sweet to the eye and touch. She was living on Cape Cod and while I visited her for our first Thanksgiving as students-no-more ... I showed off my new purchase while walking on the cold, rocky beach free at last from textbooks forever. 

 ... is the first photograph I ever took.

  Andy Warhol, Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, Elvis, Truman Capote, Tennenessee Williams for starters. What's with cultural icons and their mama mias? Someone should write a book ... a compiliation of why so many artists can't cut the umbilical cord. 

  A friend writes me - we’ll get thru this .  It reverberates and makes me think about things in a more sunny than cloudy way.   Kids at the hippie school still race round and play in the street as if their short lives depend on it.   People still marry. A bride and groom pose for  joyful photos on a West Village corner.   Leaves still change color and fall.   I run by the river and the water still gleams silver and makes me think of Jessie as usual.   A shower still feels great. I begin to reread Pema Chodrons book When Things Fall Apart .   The first sentence reads -   Embarking on the spiritual journey is like getting into a very small boat and setting out on the ocean to search for unknown lands.  

  my best ... more than some ... to distract myself. I can't read much news or watch too much TV - so ...   I amuse myself in weird ways ... like looking thru old photos ...  I was a fifteen year old kid here ... learning how to ski in that verdant locale that rivals glorious Gstaad  - Van Cortland Park in da Bronx.