Shoulda, Woulda, Coulda... stayed in Canada... Shoulda, Woulda, Coulda, oh yes. I'm here because... well, it only makes sense... I'm here because... everywhere else bores me to tears. Well that's not exactly true, but honestly, I cannot comprehend my ever living anywhere else again. I'm here because... Man, these bridges are frikin' cool! I'm here because...this is where my friends are.
I'm here because... I ran the rope in the place I was last... I'm here because... it killed me to loose her. I'm here because... there really wasn't anyway to adjust after loosing everything I had worked for years and years and years... I'm here because... I made a good effort that did not work there, because there, that type of effort is wasted, completely wasted.
I'm here because... ever since '79 I always knew there was a chance... I'm here because... it always felt like home here; even after every change, even after each gap in visits that allowed me to see that this place grows like an Uncle who has been alive since the day your great great great grandfather started the chain reaction that ended up as you. I'm here because... because this IS where humanity has ended up. I'm here because... because my 10th, 11th, 12th, and 13th grade Art Class Teacher, Mrs. Colby, planted the damned seed and my Art School Profs watered it...
I'm here because... I was left with no reason to stay there. I'm here because... she gave me the excuse to follow her... I'm here because... I got offered a job at exactly the right and most wrong of times. I'm here because... 'cause I stuck it out. I'm here because... 'cause I fought to stay... I'm here because... I beat the temptation to jump the border or jump the bridge... I'm here because... because I haven't proved that I belong here yet, shallow mutha fucka... NO!
I'm here because... because I belong here... I'm here because... because this is the place I feel most comfortable... I'm here because... this is the greatest of greatest places on earth and in time. I'm here because... the bridges are indeed, lovely. I’m here because, again, this is the place my friends are…I’m here despite my most important family… I'm here because... I have thing I have to get done, and this is where I am meant to do them... I'm here because... because I am meant to do these things with her.
I'm here because... well, I kinda know that this place love's people like me, as much as this place loves people like you.
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Monday, May 23, 2005
Roamin’ has come and he has gone
So, it’s a Sunday, a gray Sunday here in Brooklyn, feeling bad as the Roman girls are struggling with yet another overcast day threatening rain on a weekend when they’re ‘spoused to be selling the things they make, make with love. Sitting there thinking about all the things I should be doing but, ain’t ‘’cause I am hung over and lazy from the great night we had last night with friends in from Rome and VAG on the turntables.
Lazy Sunday, hanging with the roomie, talkin’ ‘bout things we haven’t talked about yet… His, pals calling him about pills they give to kids because they’re doing just what kids do, spin, run, yell and pull each other’s pants down… frikin’ addies… what are we thinking when we give our kids these things my friends do when they want to do, the do do… Long stories not told here, now, that well makes me quite, well, makes me quite sad.
Metz, Yankees game on… windows are wide open, no screens… conversations, then… BIRD, BIRD, BIRD… BIRD at, 3:00 o’clock, incoming, incoming BIRD!!!!… hands up, protect the face… here it comes… making a bee line for the open windows in the home that is becoming quite a nice home; a home Dylan and I are starting to make comfy; a place where our friends like to come and chill and do the do that we give to our ten year old kids only, because they are acting like ten year old kids; spinning, laughing, running, playing and pulling each other's pants down.
BIRD, BIRD, BIRD in the house!
Hey there BIRD, bird, welcome aboard, we'll assume yer a he as you've showed up in he-ville… Please don’t shit on my clean dishes; my dinner, or Dylan’s bed. Hello there birdie, num nums… I think, we’ll close the windows, keep you safe as you are NOT a black bird, not a brown bird nor a Robin… you’re a powder blue budgie who has somehow managed to escape; escape from someone who has obviously spent some money for you…
If we sent you back into that rain, we figure you would most likely die as the person who bought you, spent that money on you, now, is the only guy who can get you the food and drink you need to survive, well, OK in the bird owner like manner you are familiar with… birdy… I NOW find myself putting posters up in the ‘hood on your behalf.
In coming… BIRD!: is still there this morning, moved from her/his perch in the bookshelf that makes Dylan’s room completely privacy free.. Tweet he said… I’d like food, tweet he said, what the fuck you doing draping all the windows with mean girls so I do not know a way out… Tweet I said back, bitch/bastard I’m not having you fly head first into glass over and over again looking for a way to escape from me... me the guy whose now calling everyone he knows who have birds to advise him on how to keep little Roamin’ alive…
Ya, I called him Roamin’… Buffalo Jen, from Buffalo thought it a good name.
Today, Anthony called me at 2:30pm… A pal of Anthony’s had seen my bulletin posted at the bodega at the corner, and got the word back. It would appear that Roamin’ had left Anthony’s place a week ago… Left from Anthony’s apartment 4 block’s away.. Roamin’ apears to have been a good name indeed. Anthony dropped by, we grabbed Roamin’, put him in a bag and sent him home, or well, back to Anthony's.
Anthony asked if I wanted, 5, 10 bucks or something… the going rate for the return of stupid birds I guess… Forget that! Sure, I coulda bought a burger, or perhaps maybe a drink at the local later, BUT why… from what I’m told a bird in the apartment is good luck.
Roamin’ is home, or, well at least at Anthony's with his six other bird like pals Anthony has hanging around, well, let's hope they're as happy to have him back as I was to have him around last night...
IN COMING!
Roamin’ you are more than welcome, into my window… anytime you like… Roamin’ the bird-dude!
Lazy Sunday, hanging with the roomie, talkin’ ‘bout things we haven’t talked about yet… His, pals calling him about pills they give to kids because they’re doing just what kids do, spin, run, yell and pull each other’s pants down… frikin’ addies… what are we thinking when we give our kids these things my friends do when they want to do, the do do… Long stories not told here, now, that well makes me quite, well, makes me quite sad.
Metz, Yankees game on… windows are wide open, no screens… conversations, then… BIRD, BIRD, BIRD… BIRD at, 3:00 o’clock, incoming, incoming BIRD!!!!… hands up, protect the face… here it comes… making a bee line for the open windows in the home that is becoming quite a nice home; a home Dylan and I are starting to make comfy; a place where our friends like to come and chill and do the do that we give to our ten year old kids only, because they are acting like ten year old kids; spinning, laughing, running, playing and pulling each other's pants down.
BIRD, BIRD, BIRD in the house!
Hey there BIRD, bird, welcome aboard, we'll assume yer a he as you've showed up in he-ville… Please don’t shit on my clean dishes; my dinner, or Dylan’s bed. Hello there birdie, num nums… I think, we’ll close the windows, keep you safe as you are NOT a black bird, not a brown bird nor a Robin… you’re a powder blue budgie who has somehow managed to escape; escape from someone who has obviously spent some money for you…
If we sent you back into that rain, we figure you would most likely die as the person who bought you, spent that money on you, now, is the only guy who can get you the food and drink you need to survive, well, OK in the bird owner like manner you are familiar with… birdy… I NOW find myself putting posters up in the ‘hood on your behalf.
In coming… BIRD!: is still there this morning, moved from her/his perch in the bookshelf that makes Dylan’s room completely privacy free.. Tweet he said… I’d like food, tweet he said, what the fuck you doing draping all the windows with mean girls so I do not know a way out… Tweet I said back, bitch/bastard I’m not having you fly head first into glass over and over again looking for a way to escape from me... me the guy whose now calling everyone he knows who have birds to advise him on how to keep little Roamin’ alive…
Ya, I called him Roamin’… Buffalo Jen, from Buffalo thought it a good name.
Today, Anthony called me at 2:30pm… A pal of Anthony’s had seen my bulletin posted at the bodega at the corner, and got the word back. It would appear that Roamin’ had left Anthony’s place a week ago… Left from Anthony’s apartment 4 block’s away.. Roamin’ apears to have been a good name indeed. Anthony dropped by, we grabbed Roamin’, put him in a bag and sent him home, or well, back to Anthony's.
Anthony asked if I wanted, 5, 10 bucks or something… the going rate for the return of stupid birds I guess… Forget that! Sure, I coulda bought a burger, or perhaps maybe a drink at the local later, BUT why… from what I’m told a bird in the apartment is good luck.
Roamin’ is home, or, well at least at Anthony's with his six other bird like pals Anthony has hanging around, well, let's hope they're as happy to have him back as I was to have him around last night...
IN COMING!
Roamin’ you are more than welcome, into my window… anytime you like… Roamin’ the bird-dude!
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
On Behalf of Diana and Her Request for Stories that Change
Today I recieved email from a dear old friend...
------------------------
Ah, the spring! The signal of new beginnings...and with new beginnings are new endings. It's the end of the school year and the beginning of summer.
What better way to mark beginnings and endings than with coffee and cake in the afternoon? So you're invited!
Where: Diana's Place, 354 Spadina Ave.
When: Saturday, May 21st, from 2 to 7 pm or so
Why: To chat, eat, chat, enjoy, caffinate, enjoy...
Bring: a story about an ending or new beginning! Feel free to bring children, pop/juice, wine/beer, liqueur that goes with coffee/tea, a healthy snack to counter the cake, an unhealthy snake, a small hedgehog, a guest, someone I meant to invite but misspelled their email...whatever you like.
Note: There will be several cake choices including flourless, sugarless and just plain fattening!
Hope you can make it out!
Diana
---------------------------
Summer…
You sit there on the curb, smelling the smell that you can barely smell after years of soaking in that smell. You sit their smelling the fetid rubbish pouring out of half opened bags of garbage; picked clean of depositable cans by the family on Eagle whose living it is to do YOUR recycling. You sit there, again and again same old, same old, waiting for one of the old and tired, old defeated men to come down those stairs… to throw you what you don’t want but always find yourself getting from the fire escape affixed to the place with exactly no hope.
Running you momentarily realize that you, yes YOU are the idiot. You are your own worst enemy; YOU are the worst thing in your life. Forgotten again in a moment, the next moment, the moment that melts into the next moment when you decide moments later to do it all over again. The day after the day before you made your escape to the beautiful places one spends their summers… the places that finds you at peace, but that, upon your return, finds you right back on the curb moments after the car door slams behind you… summer, the heat and fetid smells of half emptied bags… don’t think about it. At least, don’t think about it right now…
Fall…
There’s always hope when the leaves turn yellow, red then brown… There’s always hope as things seem to die and wilt all around your feet… there’s always hope as you start to notice the smoking laws are making you cold and young overpaid men are hitting the balls that climb the fences that actually mean something to you… there was but little hope last year. Not because history was made with a great big yawn, but because everything, everything you did, even sitting on the curb had become one big empty hollow, desperate yawn.
Found some joy in the pigskin drama’s found more joy at the bottom of a bottle, bottled in Kentucky. Found a few friends, yawning the same yawn and waddled on through the tunnel that links the G to the V. The stenches lingered last fall, the old men appeared, then re-appeared, then re-appeared, then re-appeared again… yawn. Praying for an ice, a freeze over that would lock you indoors, that would knock you cold… maybe even end it all and send you back to… ice and snow.
Winter…
Things get busy when the leaves are all gone. Family calls and plans are made… could never have anticipated the plans being hatched by family that year. Could never have anticipated the offers put on the table… could never have anticipated the opportunity that offer would hold.
Favors for old friends, new roomies, little boys sitting, lounging around on great nights, beer, hamburger helper and Andre the Giant spinning his ever growing tale of success, well OK, making the best out of a bad situation. Arguments and fights I grew less and less interested in, placard, buttons, badges and t-shirts telling of the coming aunslauch, doom and gloom in the city of well meaning but never doing anything dumb people. A distraction for the moments, the results, then… a beautiful dinner in Ohio. Then a birthday, then a fight, then a momentary moment of clarity, insanity, what’s the difference? That, all that, each and every moment of that… over. Thank goodness, perhaps, or perhaps, more happiness found at the bottom of the bottle, bottled and corked in the great coalmining dead disastrous state of Kentucky… Change now or don’t.
Midnight Mass after a few days off, then a few more days off after midnight mass… long walks and a lot of conversations with myself… bridges… walking bridges, bridge after bridge, while I looked for a route that would take me from here to there, from there to here. Conversations with myself that turned into ranting and ravings… ranting and ravings… that turned into memories… memories that turned into stories… stories that mean nothing to anyone but me… stories that meant something to her.
Spring…
There is therapy in memories… tons of therapy if you have years of memories. Clicking little keys as you empty those Kentucky bottles, as you empty your mind of memories of sitting on that damned curb. The cold lingers, the ice you had hoped for stuck in the air a bit longer than anyone but yourself had hoped for… A quick message that takes you by surprise…
Admitting defeat, admitting mistakes, admitting you are an asshole whose own worst enemy is YOU; who hates the you YOU became to the people you love, IS, I believe one of the steps those people I met last winter try to take. I took that step by making my rambling self absorbed sappy therapeutic gigga-jagga accessible to everyone I know, everyone I love… never did figure out if they understood what I was doing… one person though, one person did, and that one person also enjoyed the way I was doing it…A quick message… I was taken by surprise!
So, Diana, a story of change… Cake and coffee… enjoying the strains of spring at the moment they become the next summer. On behalf of my old friends who may gather at Diana’s place this weekend, I submit to you my story of change. There have been nights when the stench was there; there have been days when I have prayed for cold; there have been moments when I question the miraculous things that have happened between sitting on that curb, and now sitting at my own desk in my own place; working on the things I have a say in whether or not I enjoy doing them… A wise old young man said quite recently… “It’s crazy how much self esteem can be generated by the simple act of a women telling the guy that she loves him”…
There have been moments when I have looked at what has become what, and have asked myself, “Can this actually happen?”… The answer comes back in a sigh with a Roman accent, YES it can happen… If it could not happen… then I would be doomed, BUT, it has happened, and I sit at my own desk, submitting to you this story of change, a change I am completely, absolutely confident of, confident of the fact it has indeed, happened.
Confident, completely confident as the you, the YOU who was my worst enemy and the one I hated most, put aside it’s YOU, and met the Italian, the Roman… I am now in love with YOU; completely, absolutely in love with you. Completely confident that YOU will never let me down again…
AND with that my friends, the therapy session is closed… OH, sticky, saccrin, syrupily sappy prose will be the norm… but now I write for the frikin’ fun of it. The break is over… see you again in a few more days.
Enjoy your cakes and coffees… I do miss you folks!
------------------------
Ah, the spring! The signal of new beginnings...and with new beginnings are new endings. It's the end of the school year and the beginning of summer.
What better way to mark beginnings and endings than with coffee and cake in the afternoon? So you're invited!
Where: Diana's Place, 354 Spadina Ave.
When: Saturday, May 21st, from 2 to 7 pm or so
Why: To chat, eat, chat, enjoy, caffinate, enjoy...
Bring: a story about an ending or new beginning! Feel free to bring children, pop/juice, wine/beer, liqueur that goes with coffee/tea, a healthy snack to counter the cake, an unhealthy snake, a small hedgehog, a guest, someone I meant to invite but misspelled their email...whatever you like.
Note: There will be several cake choices including flourless, sugarless and just plain fattening!
Hope you can make it out!
Diana
---------------------------
Summer…
You sit there on the curb, smelling the smell that you can barely smell after years of soaking in that smell. You sit their smelling the fetid rubbish pouring out of half opened bags of garbage; picked clean of depositable cans by the family on Eagle whose living it is to do YOUR recycling. You sit there, again and again same old, same old, waiting for one of the old and tired, old defeated men to come down those stairs… to throw you what you don’t want but always find yourself getting from the fire escape affixed to the place with exactly no hope.
Running you momentarily realize that you, yes YOU are the idiot. You are your own worst enemy; YOU are the worst thing in your life. Forgotten again in a moment, the next moment, the moment that melts into the next moment when you decide moments later to do it all over again. The day after the day before you made your escape to the beautiful places one spends their summers… the places that finds you at peace, but that, upon your return, finds you right back on the curb moments after the car door slams behind you… summer, the heat and fetid smells of half emptied bags… don’t think about it. At least, don’t think about it right now…
Fall…
There’s always hope when the leaves turn yellow, red then brown… There’s always hope as things seem to die and wilt all around your feet… there’s always hope as you start to notice the smoking laws are making you cold and young overpaid men are hitting the balls that climb the fences that actually mean something to you… there was but little hope last year. Not because history was made with a great big yawn, but because everything, everything you did, even sitting on the curb had become one big empty hollow, desperate yawn.
Found some joy in the pigskin drama’s found more joy at the bottom of a bottle, bottled in Kentucky. Found a few friends, yawning the same yawn and waddled on through the tunnel that links the G to the V. The stenches lingered last fall, the old men appeared, then re-appeared, then re-appeared, then re-appeared again… yawn. Praying for an ice, a freeze over that would lock you indoors, that would knock you cold… maybe even end it all and send you back to… ice and snow.
Winter…
Things get busy when the leaves are all gone. Family calls and plans are made… could never have anticipated the plans being hatched by family that year. Could never have anticipated the offers put on the table… could never have anticipated the opportunity that offer would hold.
Favors for old friends, new roomies, little boys sitting, lounging around on great nights, beer, hamburger helper and Andre the Giant spinning his ever growing tale of success, well OK, making the best out of a bad situation. Arguments and fights I grew less and less interested in, placard, buttons, badges and t-shirts telling of the coming aunslauch, doom and gloom in the city of well meaning but never doing anything dumb people. A distraction for the moments, the results, then… a beautiful dinner in Ohio. Then a birthday, then a fight, then a momentary moment of clarity, insanity, what’s the difference? That, all that, each and every moment of that… over. Thank goodness, perhaps, or perhaps, more happiness found at the bottom of the bottle, bottled and corked in the great coalmining dead disastrous state of Kentucky… Change now or don’t.
Midnight Mass after a few days off, then a few more days off after midnight mass… long walks and a lot of conversations with myself… bridges… walking bridges, bridge after bridge, while I looked for a route that would take me from here to there, from there to here. Conversations with myself that turned into ranting and ravings… ranting and ravings… that turned into memories… memories that turned into stories… stories that mean nothing to anyone but me… stories that meant something to her.
Spring…
There is therapy in memories… tons of therapy if you have years of memories. Clicking little keys as you empty those Kentucky bottles, as you empty your mind of memories of sitting on that damned curb. The cold lingers, the ice you had hoped for stuck in the air a bit longer than anyone but yourself had hoped for… A quick message that takes you by surprise…
Admitting defeat, admitting mistakes, admitting you are an asshole whose own worst enemy is YOU; who hates the you YOU became to the people you love, IS, I believe one of the steps those people I met last winter try to take. I took that step by making my rambling self absorbed sappy therapeutic gigga-jagga accessible to everyone I know, everyone I love… never did figure out if they understood what I was doing… one person though, one person did, and that one person also enjoyed the way I was doing it…A quick message… I was taken by surprise!
So, Diana, a story of change… Cake and coffee… enjoying the strains of spring at the moment they become the next summer. On behalf of my old friends who may gather at Diana’s place this weekend, I submit to you my story of change. There have been nights when the stench was there; there have been days when I have prayed for cold; there have been moments when I question the miraculous things that have happened between sitting on that curb, and now sitting at my own desk in my own place; working on the things I have a say in whether or not I enjoy doing them… A wise old young man said quite recently… “It’s crazy how much self esteem can be generated by the simple act of a women telling the guy that she loves him”…
There have been moments when I have looked at what has become what, and have asked myself, “Can this actually happen?”… The answer comes back in a sigh with a Roman accent, YES it can happen… If it could not happen… then I would be doomed, BUT, it has happened, and I sit at my own desk, submitting to you this story of change, a change I am completely, absolutely confident of, confident of the fact it has indeed, happened.
Confident, completely confident as the you, the YOU who was my worst enemy and the one I hated most, put aside it’s YOU, and met the Italian, the Roman… I am now in love with YOU; completely, absolutely in love with you. Completely confident that YOU will never let me down again…
AND with that my friends, the therapy session is closed… OH, sticky, saccrin, syrupily sappy prose will be the norm… but now I write for the frikin’ fun of it. The break is over… see you again in a few more days.
Enjoy your cakes and coffees… I do miss you folks!
