Tag: life

  • Writing, the Perfect Lover

    Writing is the perfect lover for me. She is magical, both ever present and invisible. And so no one can ever lure her away from me. I confess I have not been the perfect lover in return, often I have asked her to do things for others she may not want to do at all. Yet she…

  • Is April the Cruelest Month?

    I’m conjuring all the weightless floating facts of one memorable April past and beckoning them to to land for a moment in a coherent thought. Yes, like T.S. Eliot did in 1922, with his poem that begins with the burial of the dead, Waste Land, I am thinking April is the cruelest month. April, I was walking up a…

  • Why I Don’t Like Pink

    Certain colors mean a lot to me. Like the special blue gray that was the color of mother’s eyes, that is a good one. But I don’t like pink. It’s all because of a strange episode involving a snapping turtle. Where I grew up in the foothills of the Catskill mountains, the ponds were filled…

  • Impulse or Intellect?

    If I didn’t let my intellect frame my decisions, where would impulse lead me? One of my very earliest memories is from before I could walk, so I would guess under a year of age, when I had the impulse to be alone in the snow after a tremendous blizzard. I crawled off into a…

  • Subway Notes

    On the way to work as I was walking up the subway stairs at a transfer point, West 4th Street, Manhattan, the stream of traffic constricted from four abreast to single file. Gingerly avoiding deep murky puddles and dodging dripping ceiling cracks I edged by a man who was sitting on the bottom stair looking…