Source: this isn’t happiness
It’s a ritual before bedtime.
Now running for 14 months.
I stand in front of the bathroom mirror.
Take a deep breath.
Raise my left hand to pull down the lower left lid,
Raise my right hand to apply a thin stream of the prophylactic.
And if I had a third hand (and was a Believer),
I would make the sign of the cross, look to the heavens, and whisper:
Work your magic. Please.
Sodium Chloride Ophthalmic Ointment.
40% cheaper than the Name brand.
Found and bought on Amazon.
Produced in Lake Forest, Illinois by some unknown bucket shop.
You are one strange dude. You don’t think twice about the risk of a no-name eyeball lube bought on the web but refuse to buy generic Raisin Bran cereal at your local Stop ‘n Shop.
Apply every 3 to 4 hours, or as directed by Doctor.
Ophthalmologist’s instructions were nightly. And nightly it is.
For temporary relief of corneal edema.
edema: the collection of excess of watery fluid.
But that’s not the real pain point.
Which is… [Read more…]
It’s 8:58 p.m.
The 9:06 is not reachable from my position in Manhattan.
Later train, late night and another red-eye loop of early morning, late night and early morning. Do Over.
It’s Hour 17 on the shot clock on Tuesday evening.
Yet, it can’t touch me. Not tonight.
I’m primed with three glasses of Napa Chardonnay from dinner, and it’s lifting the fatigue off the mat. The mind lolls in a mist. Could this be bliss? Or inebriation?
Tourists are milling on Fifth Avenue.
Smoke hangs over the grill of a food cart. Middle eastern music is blaring from a boom box. The proprietor is whacking away at the chicken on the grill. How could I possibly be hungry?
I find my seat on the 9:39. And settle.
She boards the train.
Blonde, middle age, white collared shirt, pearls, dark gray blazer, and closed-shoe pumps with 3″ heels. Lawyer?
She places her leather bag on the seat, sits and tugs her skirt down over her knees.
She pulls a tablet from her bag, covers her mouth and coughs. And coughs again and again. Smoker’s cough.
The commuter next to her has his laptop open and his fingers are working the keys. He hasn’t lifted his head. Techie?
The train pulls out of Grand Central at 9:39 pm and rumbles through the dark tunnel. [Read more…]
At two a.m.
the sky is patent black
and I stand at the center of all my mistakes.
~ Jill Alexander Essbaum
- Photo: p-alefoxx.
- Poem: Memory’s Landscape from Jill Alexander Essbaum, from “Miserere Mei,” The Book of Scented Things: 100 Contemporary Poems about Perfume.
You have hopes and dreams, just like me.
You have anxieties and fears, just like me.
You have known suffering, just like me.
You wish to be happy, just like me
~ Monique Valcour, A 10-Minute Meditation to Help You Solve Conflicts at Work
Read full essay here.
Photo: Things That Make Me Smile
“It can never be satisfied, the mind, never.” Wallace Stevens wrote that, and in the long run he was right. The mind wants to live forever, or to learn a very good reason why not. The mind wants the world to return its love, or its awareness; the mind wants to know all the world, and all eternity, and God. The mind’s sidekick, however, will settle for two eggs over easy. The dear, stupid body is as easily satisfied as a spaniel. And, incredibly, the simple spaniel can lure the brawling mind to its dish. It is everlastingly funny that the proud, metaphysically ambitious, clamoring mind will hush if you give it an egg.
~ Annie Dillard, Total Eclipse. Teaching a Stone to Talk