Riding Metro North S. With the Glow.

Work.

Mon 6:10 am start. Home at 8:10 pm.

Tues 5:31 am start. Home at 9:12 pm.

Wed 4:43 am start. Home at 9:36 pm.

Thur 4:30 am start. Home at 9:45 pm.

See any patterns here? Any obvious trend lines? [Read more…]

Walking Cross Town. In the Big Apple.

Second train of the morning.

Arrive at Grand Central Station.

Traders, Bankers, Morning Hawks gather at the exit.

Car door slides open and the throng spills out.

I pick up the pace. Heart’s pumping. I’m passing Suits. And accelerating.

I Pass Harvard.

I Pass Yale.

I Pass MIT.

I Pass Lori’s Princeton.

I Pass Stanford.

I Pass Prep School boys from Choate, Exeter. Deerfield Academy.

I’m in front now, shoes tapping on the marble floors, Exit 500 feet ahead.

Boy from a 1 room, 3-grade public classroom in Ootischenia. Graduate of Northern Michigan University.

I step through the double doors to exit Grand Central onto Madison.

20° F wind gust roars down 47th street, eyes flood with water.

New York City! The Big Apple. You made it!

Cold bites, tears flow, and flow. And flow.

Cross walk sign turns.

I’m alone.

In front now.

Not done yet.

Not far enough ahead.

Not yet.


Photo: The city never sleeps, Atelier Olschinsky (via this isn’t happiness)

Driving I-95 S. With Freddie.

Tuesday morning.

Early morning traffic is frictionless, commuters float down I-95 S.

It’s 42° F. It’s January.  Soft, light rain. Electronics somehow (?) sense that the windshield is damp, wipers flap intermittently. Miracle. All of it.

It’s quiet in the cabin.

No radio.

No talk shows.

No podcasts.

No playlists.

The soft hum of the engine. The shifting of the sole of my right shoe on the accelerator.

And, those pernicious bumpin’ Thoughts. [Read more…]

T.G.I.F.: Let’s Go Bert Box


Watch Bird Box on Netflix. (via Your Eyes Blaze Out)

It’s been a long day

Human life is a kind of myopia, everyone walking around, seeing only what’s in front of them, or not even that—passing each other by, embroiled in our little dramas to such an extent that we miss out on everything; making big what is small.

Sheila HetiMotherhood: A Novel (Henry Holt and Co., May 1, 2018)


Notes: Illustration: Owen Gent. Related Posts: It’s been a long day

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call

Just bring a background of depth and meaning to whatever it is I do…
There’s something I can feel in my brain,
like a finger pressing down.

Sheila HetiMotherhood: A Novel (Henry Holt and Co., May 1, 2018)


Photo: 8tracks.com (via Mennyfox55)

T.G.I.F.: It’s been a long week


A man trapped in a grease vent of an abandoned Chinese restaurant in San Lorenzo, Calif. for two days, before being rescued. Authorities say he was possibly trying to burglarize the restaurant. (Alameda County Sheriff’s Office/AP )

It’s been a long day

Sometimes
everything
seems
so
oh, I don’t know.

Joe Brainard, “Poem” from The Collected Writings of Joe Brainard

 


Notes: Poem – Thank you Beth @ Alive on All Channels. Photo by damian hovhannisyan (via see more)

It’s been a long day

On some nights it’s best to stop thinking about the past, and all that’s been won and lost.

On nights like this, just getting into bed, crawling between the clean white sheets, is a great relief.

Alice Hoffman, Practical Magic

 


Notes: Photo – windworkss. Quote – shitiunderline

Flight AA2632 to DFW. And Dreamin’ of Just One Time.

5:15 A.M. Monday Morning.

Terminal B LaGuardia Airport. Not America’s finest example of its greatness or its Might. Dark. Dingy. Beyond Stale. Earning its status as the Worst Airport in the Country. Dead last in surveys. Sad, really.

Lines are backing up at Security, including TSA pre-check.

One hour and 5 minutes to boarding: Flight AA2632 to DFW.

I clear security.

And I walk.

  • AA2126. Boston. 6:00 a.m. Sit in the stands at a Red Sox game.
  • AA4752. Washington. 6:00 a.m. Sit on the steps at Lincoln Memorial.
  • AA4527. Atlanta. 6:05 a.m. Lounge in the Georgia Aquarium.

What if. Just what if. Just one time. You call it in sick. A Sick Day. What’s that? You walk back out of the terminal, stroll up to the American Airlines ticket counter, pull out your credit card, pay full price for a ticket and…take off…to…anywhere else. Like take a day trip. By yourself. To anywhere else. Turn off your cellphone(s). And disappear, for one day. Off Grid. Just one time. [Read more…]

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