All Aboard

"Instruct a wise man and he will be wiser still; teach a righteous man and he will add to his learning." Proverbs 9:9

"Oh...Come and go with me

There's so much new to see
Get high with me
Come fly with me...."JL

Is it a sorry sign when my writing finds the inspiration from the ride to and fro versus the work itself?

My escape hatch from the incredible force of Subway prime time:

Headphones and John Legend Get Lifted transcended New York's rush hour from drudgery to sheer delight set to a soundtrack with a smile and not even the name misnomer (no one is in a hurried flow and it lasts 4-7, that's 3 hours) and the bottleneck staircase breakneck race to the next Brooklyn bound L train tripping over bikes on trains? could break my satisfied stride.

There are tens of articles on the all mighty Internet instructing the common man how to ride a subway during rush hour in Manhattan. After I rode eight trains today and practically crawled on hands and knees through tight rolled jeans legs to make it to the platform before the doors hastily closed, to catch yet another, it dawned on me....This is indeed an art form I will master.

The following are excerpts from Wikihow, Ehow, and other helpful recipe websites with minor enhancements:

Position yourself in station where the doors open and slowly turn so that your back is to the open door, this will prevent aggressive behavior aimed at your face.

Hook your feet over the threshold of the subway door and bend over slightly, back up and stand upright pushing ever so slightly with your rear.

Find an anchor and guard it. Once you step onto the subway train, immediately find something to either lean against or hold onto. Do not surf freely.

Compact yourself. While still guarding your anchor, make yourself as compact as possible. This means removing your backpack and putting bags and parcels between your legs on the floor. Stand up as straight and thin as possible sucking in and holding your breath if it helps.

Guard your belongings. Even though your parcels are on the floor between your feet, keep them secure. One way is to wrap the strap of your bags around your legs or bring a rope and tie them all around your waist providing more weight to pull for any anxious pickpocket.

Above all else, do not make eye contact....and WASH AND REPEAT.

These tried and true steps will provide a pleasant ride.

**Warning** if a train pulls up during rush hour with an empty car, don't get on that car,

because there will be a very good reason (usually having to do with bodily fluids and/or odors)

Crazy, but that's how it goes
Millions of people living as foes
Maybe its not to late
To learn how to love
And forget how to hate
Mental wounds not healing
Lifes a bitter shame
Im going off the rails on a crazy train....Ozzy

Furthering my education, cause it's all about the ride, right?

Tick, Tick, Bang

"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven." Ecclesiastes 3:1

There are country folk who stay.

There are urban people who thrive.

There are city dwelling nature seekers who want the best of both worlds.

Not much is certain. But no one can live your life. And the days are short.

The second I arrived in Manhattan was the surest I've been in a long while.

And this is my time.

"A time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain, a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace." Ecclesiastes 3:2-8

Is this your time?

The Chuck

"Surely you have granted him eternal blessings and made him glad with the joy of your presence." Psalm 21:6

The 2nd Annual Charles O'Brien Memorial Golf Tournament on the first Monday of Fall at Cranwell Resort amongst the Berkshires Mountains in Lenox, Massachusetts.

Your presence was felt and honored today. Especially on my 3rd Tee Shot.

Don't you know what a day of rejoicing it will be?

Covered Ground

"If a man is lazy, the rafters sag; if his hands are idle, the house leaks." Ecclesiastes 10:18

Goodness Gracious.
Let's talk about stark contrast or the vast difference a day can make.

Yesterday I rose with the blazing sun (5:40 AM) and ran towards the south shore to the small whisper of uncharacteristic Reef Bay and on to the ruins of an old Sugar Mill plantation. Not a soul to be seen. Not a car to be heard. Quiet. Through thorny bougainvillea, tire palms. snake grass and in and out of the deep green shadows of the valleys peaks. Graceful buck deer leaped the dirt road and youthful ferrel donkeys walked beside me on the sand. Just my breath and the azure sky.
Awoke this morning, heavy raindrops on my clouded window pain. A sullen gray cool hung damp in my chest. Taxi's impatience transferred to heavy honking. Dirty puddles and ripe vomit prevalent in the wet corners. The transient trio perched under a dripping awning between 2nd and 3rd Ave numb from their reckless lifestyle. Call me crazy but I don't understand how these kids don't think they deserve better than getting high, eating cardboard with sauce, and passing out in their feces stained cargoes.

Racing to the train and barely escaping the onslaught of brackish water from a passing delivery truck. I said to myself, I'm home.

And on a metro north train to Mass this AM, an intellectual opera connoisseur with a sinus infections says to me," You write a daily blog...that must be all you do."

I collapse with exhaustion.
Come October, I breathe.

What would become of all the balls in the air, if we slowed our pace?

Mo Money

"From the least to the greatest, all are greedy for gain; prophets and priests alike, all practice deceit." Jeremiah 6:13

$7 ferry ride +requested tip

$15 mediocre egg and cheese and cold Presidente

$20 bag check

$8 Rice and Beans in PR

$15 Express to Grand Central

$11 Rainy Cab Ride

JFK resembled a ghost town tonight.

My cabbie told me it's because people fear the terrorists living in Queens.

Ponder That.

Still talking about the bail outs, handing money to Libya and the big fat sticky bud of questions, why haven't we made marijuana a money making business?

This much I know is true.

Whether you are a...

Slacker

CEO

Insurance Company

Mom and Pop Shop

Venture Capitalist

Bleeding Heart

Socialist Pig

Left Wing Liberal.

Religious Zealot

Nerd.

Jock

Compassionate Conservative.

Born Again.

Organized.

Disheveled.

Friendly

Private

Honest

Sly

Creative

Static.

Yes even if you're mildly successful, somewhat brilliant, wildly ignorant.

or highly intelligent.

Not one of us is impervious to greed.

C'mon, don't you want more?

**Gordon Gecko is back in NYC.

Art Imitating Life

"Her ways are pleasant ways, and all her paths are peace." Proverbs 3:17

But searching all the while.

Picked up The Fuck Up today off my revolving bookshelf in St. John. It was sandwiched in between a taped together copy of Alex Haley's Roots, I had pulled out of Kay Nelsons dusty cupboard in 2001. A 5 foot spitfire of a women from Nayak, NY who moved to St. John over fifty years ago and lived and died in an underground clapboard shack on the side of this silly rock; and a smutty paperback from an anonymous author called Finishing School. This book was passed through window to window on a St. Thomas Barge one afternoon when she saw me nodding off. The gifter told me she liked to read it and furiously masturbate on the watery ride to pass the time. Thought I might like it...

Arthur Nesesian's underground literary masterpiece appropriately called the F Up is about an aspiring writer living in East Village during the gritty 80's struggling for a dream and desperate to find himself despite the constant search.

Mmmm...

At first glance the title seemed to glow in the morning sun. I snatched it up and started the familiar odyssey in between dump runs, Patron shots, tenant signatures, clinging to the rock arguments, city withdrawal, mortgage apps, and the perfect calm of the Caribbean.

There are lifers and life livers...

I would rather be courageous than comfortable...even if it means fucking up.

What category do you find your self in?

Really Got a Hold on Me

"I tell you the truth, whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven. Matthew 18:18

Oh Lord Jesus, please bring me some discernment.

Has the 12th round bell rung? Has the game clock ticked down to zero?

Have I been punched in the face for so long, I don't know which direction is forward?

Do I take the armor off and lay down or do I forge forward with the remaining strength to fight a battle that must be won.

So much of me wants to keep on punching, but I want to know what's right. I am surrendering it all to you.

Empty Me of Me so I can be filled with You.

There's a saying that goes..

"More money, more problems."

I think that's a crock of shit.

I had a lot less worries when I had the money....

Despite the 14 hours from East Village to Fish Bay, ridiculous taxi medallion fees, and the slow and easy traffic of St. Thomas, my $3 Heineken Keg Can , the Caribbean breeze and riding the luxurious crystal blue current of Pillsbury Sound made the world shut down for just a moment.

I first laid eyes on these glorious untouched Virgin Islands when I was 15 years old. In the sun drenched thick of it all, with our Suzuki filled with hitchhikers, potholes roads leading to pristine beaches, sand streets to superior snorkeling, greasy grouper sandwiches, sailing to beach bars, feeding dolphins by hand, sea turtles at your feet, wild and unruly pirates, full to the brim Pusser Rum and heavy nutmeg days, my mom turned to me and said...you should live here some day.

Nearly 20 years later. This island sits in my soul like a heavy beautiful burden, I can't quite shake. In my years residing here, I've weathered hurricanes and relationships. I met lovers, rock stars, loyal friends, and downright dishonest ones. I've witnessed hedonism at it's worst, seen cocaine ruin lives, learned how to sail the mother ocean blue, I've seen full moon after Cheshire cat moon sink into the sea. I've skinny dipped and sky dived..Gained 20 honest pounds of painkilling rum. I've reported the news of that sometimes paradise ain't always what it seems. Ran acros the spine of Centerline Road to steel drums. I've met my best friend and life partner, I've lost my heart's companion to a brutal murder. Drum circles, drunk fests, sailing regattas, scuba trips. I've swam, danced, eaten, drank, laughed, and cried my way through this 9 mile volcanic isle. I have fought to claim a piece of my own. I have gained so many memories and risked a secure financial future.

Wachovia Bank is threatening to take this house. This house that has my blood, sweat, and tears in the ficus roots. This house where my compost pile is consumed by hermit crabs and my key lime tree drips with fruit. This house that has strangled my joy and challenged my marriage. This house with a view that has made me question my life on Earth more than I ever imagined.

Do I hold on?

Common Wealth

"So in Christ we who are many form one body, and each member belongs to all the others." Romans 12.5

That's a tough one.
It's the JFK Jig.

Manhattan is just too small for the likes of Qaddafi, Ahmadinejad, Medvedev, Barak, and me...

-Puerto Rico, My heart's devotion
Let it sink back in the ocean
Always the hurricanes blowing, Always the population growing. And the money owing
And the sunlight streaming. And the natives steaming
I like the island Manhattan
Smoke on your pipe
And put that in!

I like to be in America.

Alright by me in America.

-I like the city of San Juan.

I know a boat you can get on... Bernstein and Sondheim

I tell you what, these Puerto Ricans have it made in the shade, and I am not so sure why they want to be the 51st state of America. They are already a part of the US Economy with federal funding but with a territorial rule which keeps them in control of their domestic affairs. They have their own constitution and elect their own officials. They travel freely throughout the United States. They do no pay federal taxes, are in charge of their own National Guard, have impeccable weather, decent rum and did I mention party like rock stars?

In my years of living in the Caribean, never did I see such gorgeous revelers than when the Puerto Rican Navy came to town. Rafting their mammoth yachts starboard to port , heavy handing the cocktails, cranking the Salsa, and shaking what their mothers gave them all long weekend.. long....

Yet many left and continue to migrate from this grand island in search of the "American Dream" and despite their US Citizen status endure continued discrimination and often stick to their own. PR's are the largest Latino population in New York...

This morning as the Puerto Rican flag waves gracefully in the tropical breeze, I stare out at the emerald mountains with splashes of bold orange roofs standing as a backdrop to the shades of cerulean sea. The pride is abundant.

And I wonder why so many like me swapped this life of easy coconut palms and chase their exhausting concrete passion.

Is the grass greener?

Self Introspection

"All my longings lie open before you, O Lord; my sighing is not hidden from you." Psalm 38.9

Central Park had its way with me.

The beautiful vibration of the saxophone reed moans a deep throated tune and the plucking of the upright bass feels at home in my chest.

I don't feel like the wholesome girl eating a plain turkey deli sandwich on a ten minute lunch break, dressed in stark white jeans and a crisp button down with blond hair in place, who smiles at the birds dancing on the first day of fall leaves scattered on Strawberry Fields. The girl who enjoys a buttery glass of Chardonnay and sweet pecks on the lips from my husband after a long day in interior design, And who forgives friends with a sure understanding of I know you can't take time to see me when you visit. I'll just sit, nod, giddy up to get along.

I feel like a hard woman in lace panties on cotton sheets on a sultry summer night in front of a metal fan blowing my rather worn and greasy hair from a night of vicious dancing, smoking a funny cigarette and drinking my bourbon cooled by one ice cube from the tray, clutching my fingerprint smeared high ball glass with one hand and toasting my book review with the other, laughing out loud, and listening to hypnotic jazz that lifts me up and makes me say I do not care, it's my life, I make no excuses.

"Why must we all conceal. What we think, how we feel? Must there be a secret me
I'm forced to hide? I won't pretend that I'm Someone else for all time" CA

Wishing those that knew me best, knew me better.

Does your reflection, reflect you?

*Praying for those wet and worried in Georgia

Get In My Belly

"He rained down manna for the people to eat, he gave them the grain of heaven." Psalm 78:4

"Don't you people have homes?" Judge Smails.

It's Monday night, eleven in the evening and all the restaurants on my block are busting at the seams. I'm thinking at least half of the apartment kitchens go unused in this town.

New York City is the epitome of a smorgasbord.

Two nights ago, I stood in the middle of the sidewalk at 3 AM with my severe weapon of choice. A plastic fork. And proceeded to use it quite offensively in three different cardboard cones held by three different hands. Filled to the brim with hot authentic Belgian Pomme Frites fresh out of the fryer and smothered with our choice of sauce...Blue Cheese, Mexican Ketchup, and War Sauce (Peanut Satay with raw onions) Flashback 15 years to the not so gourmet IHOP in Athens and the sampler platter (2 of them for 3 of us).

Ever so vigilant and unwilling to let Fat Bastard steal my mojo, I pumped away in a Pilates Room in Chelsea with tens of others working off their weekend and endured the knock out henchman instructor yell at us in her thick little Scottish Brogue.

Why? Cause I want my baby back, baby back, baby back...

Are you spitting out or swallowing what life feeds you?

The Largest of Larges

"Beloved, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God, for many false prophets have gone out into the world. By this you know the Spirit of God: every spirit that confesses that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is from God, and every spirit that does not confess Jesus is not from God. This is the spirit of the antichrist, which you heard was coming and now is in the world already." 1 John 4:13

I dreamed that somehow I was wrangled into a velvet cushioned stool at a seedy fortune teller stall, doused with lavender water and told that I am a strenuous walker who does not take loving care of my feet. And before I could be taken aback with her uncanny spot on truth, I look down to a fuzzy glimpse of my blister worn battered tootsies in flip flops and a raincloud bursts over her head smearing her mascara into her beady eyes.

That could be equated to the soothsaying brilliance of a palm reader telling me that I am a girl who likes to drink wine...meanwhile I am sitting there with my hands in hers smiling with dull purple teeth.

Nightmare.

Walking in Union Square I passed by a young man holding a homemade sign with the words written in block letters, FREE ADVICE...donations accepted. He was engaged in a conversation with a seasoned red-eyed woman who was furiously talking with her heavily ring clad hands.

Behind them a long line of other searchers rocking from one foot to the next in anticipation of their life's pining questions answered..

I was baffled. But not surprised.

Look I believe in psychotherapy. I'm a fan and if I had money, I would partake.

I believe in God. I believe there is wisdom in a multitude of counsels.

I do not put a pinky's worth of stock into necromancers, fortune tellers, tarot card readers, crystals balls, Magic 8 Balls, or Ouija Boards as any form of sage advice for my future dealings and decisions.

There are evil spirits and Satan and his demons are real. They are active in our daily world and can present themselves as righteous and full of light.

And according to the extensive list of Mediums in Manhattan, the people of NY are rejecting God, inhaling too much incense and inviting ill will into their lives on a regular basis...

My question is this...if you don't need God. And you are the center of your own Universe. Then how the hell are these bullshit artists continuing to feed you with crap, push crystals into your searching soul and afford their prime real estate East Village storefronts lit only by lava lamps?

And if you don't believe me...

In Matthew we learn Jesus has all power and He will always be with us.

In 1 John we are comforted that Jesus, who is in us, is more powerful than Satan.

And in Romans 8:31 The great news is if God is on your side, we don't worry about the enemy.

Now let's hear it for the last song of my wedding night...

Prepare yourself you know it's a must
Gotta have a friend in Jesus
So you know that when you die
He's gonna recommend you
To the spirit in the sky
Gonna recommend you
To the spirit in the sky. Norman Greenbaum ( A Jew)

Who do you seek for your sanity?

Clouds Conspire

"The LORD Almighty is the one you are to regard as holy, he is the one you are to fear,he is the one you are to dread." Isaiah 8:13

Can the fact that empower Jim power the Mosaic Man of East Village told us that the city is using inferior substandard asphalt to pave the cobblestones of St. Mark's because they want to keep the block gritty and dangerous and employee the lazy department of public works for an extended contract while the ones with our eyes wide open watch them vigilantly and are waiting for the opportune time to strike and take back our street, really have an adverse affect on my glorious day?

P.S. You can tell because the puddles at the edge of the curbs are all growing exponentially at the same identical space and time which is how you know we are all in trouble.

The answer is no...

I will drink my cocoa ground mud coffee, dance to an upright bass, drive fifty balls over ten million dollar yachts straight at Jersey, stroll the Sumac wild grass growing High Line Park, cheer on my new Irish born Simon the Pie man friend kill 5 meat pies in 4 minutes, dance to German saxophones at a Beer Garden, kiss my man on the mouth, and sip Cote du Rhone with mac and cheese before fighting with a Versace wearing, Nike donning "bum" at the bus stop who threatens me with his bible and the fact he will bring judgement on me and my husbands life before we can count to three because we won't buy his zippo.

In the words of my gal friend... "He's barking up the wrong tree."

And I will do it ALL fearlessly with the sheer pleasure of being alive in New York.

Do you believe in conspiracy? Then whom shall we fear?

Oy Vey!

"Even after Jesus had done all these miraculous signs in their presence, they still would not believe in him." Jon 12:37

The YMCA.

Young Men's Christian Association. Founded by Evangelicals for refuge from the growing crime in the streets as a place for prayer and bible study in the late 1800's.

Healthy Spirit. Mind. Body. And a favorite disco classic.

I finally bit the bullet and joined my neighborhood Y, dragged myself to the door, payed my dues, scooted through the train of 4 years olds dripping wet after swim class, and climbed aboard a machine..Barely breaking a sweat, a woman taps me on the shoulder and tells me they are closing in ten minutes. On a Friday? I replied.

It's Shabbat?

Do what?

SHABBAT.

Shrugging my shoulders and feeling quite robbed , I mumble to myself about the inconvenience of spending my money today but that I will get a great workout tomorrow, my first day off.

That's when I hear two workers consorting about closing up shop for the weekend.

Escuse me? I barked.

There the two most holy days of the whole year. We close.

BLANK STARE.

Now, I've been a Christian my whole life and as far as I know, Christmas and Easter never fell in September.

Turns out my Y is Jewish owned which should explain the tower of Challah in the window as a parting gift, not to mention the man hugs and Happy New Year Greetings.

Looks like I am pounding the pavement this weekend.

Y might stand for Yiddish but what about the C?

I tell you what, only in New York.

He's my Savior, how come He isn't theirs?

Pull Over, Lean Back

"Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up." Galatians 6:5

Watched the sunrise and sunset over Brighton Beach, BK on a set.

Averaging 3 1/2 hours of sleep per night, the memoirs are a little fuzzy and my collection of thoughts futile....

Looking out at the road rushing under my wheels

I dont know how to tell you all just how crazy this life feels
I look around for the friends that I used to turn to to pull me through
Looking into their eyes I see them running too
Running on -running on empty
Running on - running blind...

Jackson Browne

Life is passing by.

Who needs a pit stop?

UGH

"Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves." Philippians 2:3

Well it was bound to come. They say the honeymoon period has a gestation period. I just envisioned mine a little longer than eight months.

I found two small flaws in my idealized city of dreams that I would like to do without.

I can't generalize and make the sweeping statement of all New Yorkers but...

There is a pride filled epidemic called the "I won't commit to you now, I'd rather wait,because something better might come along" syndrome.

It is painful and takes the loyalty friend finding factor out of the equation.

Secondly, after a ten hour workday running on fumes and squished like a grape on the subway, coming home to a screaming match also has no place in my world.

With a four AM train ride to Coney Island to parent a high school pep rally on Ugly Betty looming, I look for some deserved rest.

“Give up all bad qualities in you, banish the ego and develop the spirit of surrender. You will then experience Bliss.”
-Sri Sathya Sai Baba

Can I crawl in a hole and sleep?

She's Like the Wind

"For the sinful nature desires what is contrary to the Spirit, and the Spirit what is contrary to the sinful nature. They are in conflict with each other, so that you do not do what you want." Galatians 5:17

I don't want to write a daily blog anymore.

It has turned into an infringing scramble to try to organize the insanity of the day in some concise story telling manner that does it justice and at the end of the day, I want peace.

Yet I reflect on Dalton from Roadhouse and his choice words,"Pain don't hurt." And I'm comforted.

Stood on Staten Island as the clock struck a sleep deprived 6 AM calm. Lady Liberty's torch brilliantly aglow as the golden sun rose over lower Manhattan. And as I watched the buildings turn a shining amber, I wondered; How many struggling actors, aspiring writers, marriage builders, satisfaction seekers, new city discoverers, dream chasers, carrying three job individuals find moments to halt the madness to contemplate their emotional observations and physical experiences and transpose them into written words. Let alone drink themselves into a creative stupor.

I doubt Fitzgerald or Hemingway would have spent 14 hours of their life on a Phillip Morris commercial in shorts and flip flops staring out at the vast Hudson River watching the five story freighters pass by like cruise ships dwarfing the city in the background without some serious Absinthe authoring. They would have found immense inspiration and with that motivation for more clever composing. Not just a sunburn and a paycheck. I'm discouraged.

But reading an article on how to get noticed as a writer in this city, I hear Johnny Castle's charming, heart stealing, rough writing whisper in my ear.

"Nobody puts baby in the corner."

So tomorrow I'll see what the duties of a life sustaining day bring, And writing and work are amicable partners.And I'll hold big brother Daryl Curtis' promise nice and tight against my chest.

"Sure... sure little buddy, we ain't goin' to fight anymore.. **

It's a powerful force, changing directions on a whim, but don't you just want to pick up you feet and let it carry you away?

**The Outsiders. Confirmed without a shadow of a doubt that I am straight as a stick.

Goodbye to our favorite toughie Patrick Swayze.

Manic Monday

"We hear that some among you are idle. They are not busy; they are busybodies." 2 Thessalonians 3:11

Memo to self. Shorthand notes for my future book of memories as fast as I can write them.

8AM Times Square. 40th floor. Regal Legal Office.

Dead on mesmerizing view of Central Park.

Sofa delivery. Checks.

Lehman Brothers protest. Fox News Satellite.

Naked Cowboy.

Local Train. Interior Design Office.

Bubble Wrap Prints. Kombucha explosion.

Taxi on Columbus.

Measure. Tape. Stretch.

2nd delivery. No assemble crew. Stick tongue out. Scramble.

Jamaican Cart. Stewed Chicken and fried Plantains.

Martha Plimpton.

Italian Leather Desk in four parts.

JS Moving. West Indians. Race Card. Ting. Easy Skanking. Humble. Where did the term African-American come from?

GenUINE.

Drill bit. Love for the Lord. THANK YOU.

Subway down.

Invitation.

Uptown Bus.

Fashion Week Suite. Designers. Pseudo Family. World of Publishing. Pomegranate Cosmo.

Bryant Park Tents.

PR. Tears. A closeness. Kim Kardashian takes the elevator.

Girl's Night.

Koi. Tuna like Butter. Tangerine Cosmo.

Cellar Bar. 80's fashion. Plain ole Cosmo.

MY TRUTH.

Entourage. Project Runway. Where is number 10 Eli?

Part ways.

Mouse in the apartment.

4 AM call time...

Just another fun day when all I do is run day....

Is you week off to a long start?

Cave and the Wave

"There are different kinds of gifts, but the same Spirit." 1 Corinthians 12:4

It's the small pleasures that matter really. I don't understand this blissful reality every day of my life. And those in which I don't I often seem to have a splinter in my foot and rocks in my overstuffed hobo bag. Not today however...a train ticket, a fleece blanket, and five pounds of arts, news, propaganda, and overzealous paid opinions combined with pristine Jones Beach and I am light as a floating feather.

I received a couple of kick in the head realities today. One being I need a dictionary on hand while reading the NY Times Week in Review..Mensch or pettifogging anyone?

Also if I am going to read intellectual Jew writers who say that whites don't feel the blow of the recession because they reach out to wealthy relatives( is she looking in a mirror) or a misogynistic director get rave reviews because he enjoys putting women on pedestals and knocking them off to get back at his controlling mom, then I am going to have to play the old tape in my head that relishing the paper after a morning farmer's market run, a train to the shore, five hours in the sand, and well into my Sunday evening off are a sheer pleasure and not intended to ruffle my feathers only to exercise my emotions.

I think I am mainly pissed because they are published opinions with high circulation. (By the way, click on my adds, I get paid)

However, the true revelation of the day that has any weight bearing impact hit me today while I played referee to the Book in Review pages and the mighty wind which had so gustily blown all of our clouds away to reveal the late summer sun. I was contemplating my sitting position in line with the horizon, the tilt in the Earth's axis and the pull of gravity, the fact that we are all bundles of energy made up of majority salty water and our brains could feasi ...when my dear husband with rival intelligence chimed in...

"I wonder if we can get a swirl cone at Friendly's."

Now I write this with a straight and surprisingly calm face. This curiosity is no more a measurement of breadth or depth of mind, only what gets us off at that moment in time. His being ice cream. Mine, the meaning of life.

Now, on those heavily burdened days, I would normally groan with exasperation that we just are not on the same wavelength and how is it he doesn't get my contemplative groove?

But today with his heavy hand supporting me on the small of my back as we stood on the L coming home together, he smiled at me with a genuine look of love.

And I realized our vast differences are our simple strengths in this strange, strange world.

I'll read. He'll watch. I will tangle wires, he will compartmentalize, I'll cook like a raving madwoman, he'll clean as he goes, my subtraction will be wrong and his will be right. I'll analyze the ambiguous. He will assemble the obvious. At the end of a long day I'll pour a Loire Valley Sancerre in a Riedel glass. He'll drink a can of Miller Lite.

I know this. And so I'm braced for the reply the next time I ask," What are you thinking about dear?"

Do you ever wonder where the act of good old fashioned thinking will lead you?

Humdinga

"In this way they will lay up treasure for themselves as a firm foundation for the coming age, so that they may take hold of the life that is truly life." 1 Timothy 6:19

Just a thought?

Do the liberally fiscal leftists lack depth and discipline so much that they want the government to spoon feed them information and control their decisions?

I am proud of Americans who believe in freedom of choice and personal responsibility who don't want socialism thrust down their throat's....If my theory is true, it is good to be the wise warrior in this fight. Like I said, just a thought.

"As you grow older, you'll find the only things you regret are the things you didn't do." ~Zachary Scott

Our separation once dubbed The Hudson, now together has morphed into THE RUMBSPRINGA. Translated into running around and comes from the time in the Amish Youth's life when they voluntarily expose themselves to what the outside world has to offer. All it has to offer...

Yes, I am likening my husband and I to the religious 16-21 age bracket who have been living a limited and sheltered existence who step out to embrace modern pleasures and experience simple vices before they sign their names to the "settled life."

Rule enforcement is relaxed. A little rebellion encouraged. Bed Courtship practiced. And our rite of passage into wedded bliss begins...

So it's making love and burning Nag Champa. Dipping hot buttered Nan in greasy Tandoori chicken in front of a sitar player wearing Air Jordan's. Walk in the rain. Haggle for Rolex knock offs on Canal Street. Drink beers in our pj's, catch a little pigskin, buy our train tickets to the beach and relax all on a God given New York Saturday afternoon.

Who coined the expression, act your age anyway?

But One Day

"He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away." Revelation 21:4

9/11

8 years

2,976 names

4 bell tolls

Countless tears

And endless rain drops on this damp and dismal day of remembrance.

The spotlights are shining bright on this black night.

Proud to be in Manhattan.

Have you forgotten?

BAH BAH

"Know that the LORD is God. It is he who made us, and we are his ; we are his people, the sheep of his pasture." Psalm 100:3

I don't want to be a Sadducee cause their just sad, you see. I just want to be a sheep.

I don't want to be a hypocrite, cause their not hip with it, I just want to be a sheep.

-Bible School diddy

This place is an absolute trip and as small as I may feel in it, it has no bearing on my personal space in a big ole' town. Seven hands on one subway pole today. Can you imagine? Seven and all of them coming from different directions.

Pierced noses to engorged groins and busty fronts to small backs we breathe each others air as more people jump the local and squeeze into the already intimate, fringing on the inappropriate public setting called the Express Train at rush hour.

We all scream out and huff it up an underground tunnel lined with bucket beaters and poem reciters on each others heels. Now if I am painting an undesirable picture, this is not my intention. I do this with a cramped pep in my step. There is no where else in America where you stand centimeters away from another person's moist lips, smell their bubble gum and not even utter a stranger's hello. Next to impossible to avert your eyes away from other's glares as you're surrounded but likely to fume at the man who has his legs spread wide on the bench seat dominating a space where two of me could sit.

And while I'm addressing the lack of elbow room.. In new job situations...especially design businesses housed in cozy quaint Central Park West apartment's, my frequent bathroom habits become painfully aware and the implausibility of hiding them acute. I brought this up to my co worker today who left his desk once ( compared to my eight) and that was for a lunch run...

Finally home to relative quietness. Sorted through the crazed streets of SOHO as 700 retail vendors in NY opened their doors with finger food, bubbly, and DJ's to boot. Oh so Vogue Bloomberg's kick in the pants for the economy and Fashion Week 2009 commences....as even more people stylishly flock in herds to the island.

I'd be lost here if I didn't have a shepherd.

Do you know your way?

Usually Right-

"If the ax is dull and its edge unsharpened, more strength is needed but skill will bring success." Ecclesiastes 10:10

Lincoln Center, Manhattan by day, Congress, D.C. by night. That charismatic boy gets around. And the left members of Congress are a brown nosing lot. Can you keep your fat cat asses in the seats where they normally reside?

Occupations often held by a left-minded person:

Mathematician

Scientist

Banker

CPA

Lawyer

Librarian

Occupations often held by a right-minded person

Artist

Writer

Actress

Wildlife Manger

Beautician

Politician-see you don't need rationale.

Under no circumstance do I even need to question what hemisphere dominates my everyday operations.

My screaming fever, evident constipation and blistering headache from my new part time job is a testimony to the brutal truth that with the exception of my overzealous analytical skills, my left side has been fast asleep for over thirty years. This is not news to me....

I prefer rock music, like writing fiction, think better in a supine position, and more than anything grow very restless during long drawn out verbal explanations. Hence one of my go to expressions, Trim the fat!

And as if New York City was not already a ridiculous and challenging game of hustle. I have taken on something far left and outside my comfort zone.

High pressured organization extravaganza plus minuscule margin for error and I have never really met on any sane workable level...(running tape at Fox) But as I chowed down on a charred piece of Neapolitan pizza with my left hand, texted with my right, carried a blueprint under my arm, and surfed the express train downtown to shoot pictures with the design architect in a high profile celebrities building, I thought about my purpose for inhabiting New York... I'm a quick learn. And just as I workout so I can eat, drink and play... I go to work so I

can eat, drink, and play harder. Plus...don't let them fool you; The left is where the money is.

"Life is trying things to see if they work." Ray Bradbury

Still doing well, what you know best?

Right to Live and Die

"He who is pregnant with evil and conceives trouble gives birth to disillusionment." Psalm 7:14

"When history looks back, it will prove what I'll die knowing. " Jack Kevorkian

Mouth a raging fire from Mamoun's $2.50 Falafel sandwich as I watch New York's finest pull on my block and take the slow walk up a brownstone's steps. Guns thankfully still holstered...

Today is a day when I think just how important time is and exactly how much of it I conceivably could be wasting chasing these neon lights.

Casted as a mid-Western trial lawyer in a Sears suit for a movie about Jack Kevorkian played by the legendary Al Pacino.

Hoping I was on the defense, I arrived in minimal makeup, wool jacket and gloves (think Detroit winter) and headed to set (Brooklyn courthouse) donning a smart briefcase and ready to act. The Assistant Director had other plans for me.

I stood. I leaned. I reclined. I ate. But mostly I sat on a court bench for hours discussing my adamant belief in the Lord to a wildly intelligent, culturally sound, South African born oil painter atheist.

Amidst a heated debate about empirical evidence and if God would only stop child hunger and mass genocide... he pulled out a folded piece of paper from his wallet and read me the following....

The Epicurean Riddle

Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able? Then he is not omnipotent.
Is he able, but not willing? Then he is malevolent.
Is he both able and willing? Then whence cometh evil?
Is he neither able nor willing? Then why call him God?

This silly willy argument only proves to me that we have a just God who keeps his promises to His children. He is not the puppeteer and we His puppets. The sheer evil that runs loose in our world is because God granted us free will and we are the ones that choose between good and sin. His will is for us to seek him first in praise and love. To put him before all others. Why would he reward all of us for being continuing disobedient to His word? If our powerful God stepped in to relieve us and abolished evil with one fell swoop than it would be the end of mankind as we know it. He is omnipotent, he knows our mind's thoughts and heart's desires. These please and pain him. When God created us in his image he created us righteous and holy with the tendency to do right. He's willing and able. But turns out we are too! We just choose another path.

We looked up, mouth's parched from attempting to prove our points. And just like that we were wrapped. Didn't work. Didn't feast eyes on Scarface. But we evangelized and antagonized, challenging our choices all the while.

And for the record, I do not with any fiber of my being believe Doctor Jack Kevorkian committed criminal evil.

Who should save us from our own misery?

Wurk Hawd. Play Hawd.

"The sleep of a laborer is sweet, whether he eats little or much, but the abundance of a rich man permits him no sleep. Ecclesiastes 5:12

"Coney Island is the Tom-Tom of America. Every nation has, and needs-and loves-its Tom-Tom. It has needs of orgiastic escape from respectability-that is, from the world of What-we-have-to-do into the world of What-we-would-like-to, from the world of duty that endureth forever into a world of joy that is permitted for a moment."
- Richard Le Gallienne, 1905

The wealthy and the wanting, old and young alike, early immigrant's children's children and fresh off the boat camera toting tourists all rested on their laurels with their feet in the sand soaking up the last of the summer sun at the edge of Brooklyn this afternoon.

A generous slice of Americana pie strolled the boardwalk with their lovers and families covered in coconut oil, relishing fried clams, flying kites on the Autumn wind, casting their fishing lines and crab nets, rolling dice and placing bets, and doing their best Karaoke homage to Sinatra in an off key. The line for The Cyclone wrapped around the corner, a freaky sideshow in full swing, soft serve cones on every block, and a true melting pot of shapes, sizes, cultures, customs, and characters all singing one sweet vernacular....a unified day off. Whoo. Whoo.

Isn't this country fascinating?

Not Too Shabby Skedaddle

"A man can do nothing better than to eat and drink and find satisfaction in his work. This too, I see, is from the hand of God, 25 for without him, who can eat or find enjoyment?"

Ecclesiastes 2:24-25

Penn Station. Track 17. Two hours later. World's away....

Ice cold IPA's on the umbrella covered shore.

Invigorating clear water just shy of cold.

A sandy spin cycle.

Seashells in my suit.

Unsparing Laughter.

Sunkissed cheeks.

Bob Marley, the ultimate causeway artist.

Osprey's hunting over the tall marsh grasses.

Farm table spread with fresh garden tomatoes and homemade lovin lobster rolls that dripped pure goodness down our hands.

Wine.

Big Bed and Breeze.

Full Moon.

Hot mug of coffee in the garden. Barefoot. Long Sleeves.

Clip a rainbow of wildflowers in a country pitcher.

The Sunday New York Times.

Wild Maine Blueberries and farmers market banana pancakes. Bacon.

Ah Glorious Bacon.

Beach.

Fellowship. Frisbee.

The love was lavished this no-labor weekend.

And our blessings are too too bountiful!

Big salty kisses to our hospitable hosts on the serene sound.

I don't know, what do think...

Am I falling love with the Northeast?

Gone

"The fear of the LORD leads to life: Then one rests content, untouched by trouble." Proverbs 19:23

Doing what any self-respecting New Yorker would do...heading to the Hampton's.

Are you shaking the week off?

Pretty is as Pretty Does

Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some people have entertained angels without knowing it." Hebrews 13:12

"That man is crazy."

"We do not use that word here."

"Well , what word do you use then Doctor?"

"Now, Now."

He's very now, now. I can tell you that." Peter Sellers

Shortly after I stepped into the express training heading downtown from the Upper Upper West, it was apparent that an early commuter lost his footing, while traveling 60 miles an hour and dropped a rather milky cup of coffee to the floor spilling it's contents which started at the front of the train car and meandered it's way like a lazy creek under the seats and to the opposite end.

What apparently happened next was another helpful commuter and or a lazy MTA worker- I do not know for certain, tried to remedy the issue by laying down a few pages of the Friday post to soak up the creamy stream. This seemed to be, while temporary, a fix.

My neighbor did not think so.

I proceeded to watch a prematurely gray haired woman who had apparently been in one knock down drag out fight with a container of red rouge and the rouge won carry an overloaded Duane Reed sack with the handles torn off, plop down in her seat with sheer disgust. At once, she placed both of her colored Keds on the already laying wet paper. She had cut her nylons off at the ankle in a jagged unsymmetrical manner, so much that the excess hung down to the heel of her shoe. And she began to wipe up the remaining liquid under her feet in a sweeping clockwise circular pattern. She did this in a repeated motion. When it appeared to be she would not cease, she stopped for a moment's rest to take out a number of white napkins from her busting at the seams bag and laid them under foot. Repeat Motion.

Determined to not let the spilled substance get the best of her shoes circa 1980, she reached into her magic carry all and unveiled another black and white print newspaper in which she threw to the ground, hiked her plaid skirt to mid calf's and went to town using her be all (elbow "feet" grease).

The subway doors opened up and in walked three unknowing women sat right down amongst the coffee chaos. Since our manic maid had her head to the grindstone, she didn't realize at first she had lost her range of motion.

Conceded she took her rotund receptacle carrying some serious weight and put it down on the paper to soak up that last drop. Giving it that last bit of pressure. She sighed.

I smiled.

oops. My stop.

Yep. Neurosis is alive and kicking in New York.

You got any of your own?

Walking Though the Park.. Reminiscing

"My heart is steadfast, O God, my heart is steadfast; I will sing and make music." Psalm 57:7

Here is the song that awakened my soul this afternoon walking through Central Park in between bodies after a solid 5 hour workday...

The best things in life aren't things. They're living and breathing.

The best things in life aren't things. They're something you can believe in.

Do you believe me?

The best things in life aren't free, they're laughing and crying.

The best things in life aren't free, they're frightened, but they're still fighting.

Do you believe me?

The best things in life aren't free. They're broken and bleeding.

They best things in life, they're chosen to believe in.

Do you believe me? MF

Yeah. I'm a little one track mind right now.

But when I listen to his music. I feel like the person I want to be 7 days a week, 24 hours a day.

Free. Fun. Humble. Peaceful. Kind. Chill Considerate. Open. Loving. Loyal. Wild. Passionate. Tolerant. Resilient. Inviting. And yeah a little fanatic.

Here's the thing.

I can listen to music and be completely transported back to a memory, an emotion, a reckoning, or a state of mind. It seduces me. It elevates me. It is my my anti-depressant.

Kicking Universal Healthcare and Pharmaceuticals to the wayside....

If I thought fast:

Bob Dylan on our house loudspeaker and me in a Tropicana hoodie on our three tone brown pit couch.

Def Leopards Bringing on the Heartache will always conjure feelings of me pining for my older brother's attention.

Don't it make my brown eyes blue on long gotta pee family road trips to Nashville.

JT's Carolina in my Mind makes my mouth water with memories of fried chicken and mashed potatoes after church.

Leaning over my bed until the blood rushed to my head while I listened to Pink Floyd's,

The Wall- over and over again reminds me of my introduction to illicit drugs and a misunderstanding of that word called responsibility.

Or smoking my mom's Kool cigarettes I swiped and blowing out the un- inhaled smoke out my 2nd story bedroom window to Billy Joel's Piano Man when I was eleven and my parents just told me they were getting a divorce.

Michael Franti's message evokes a sharp sensation of exhilaration in me emphasizing the utter importance of today, the present, the leap, the move to Manhattan, the satisfaction of a tug at my heart that was unrelenting. A sensory that screams LIFE IS SHORT.

And growing into our own is such a gift. Embrace it and squeeze it.

As you move forward...what takes you back?

Hollywood Ten+1

"By standing firm you will gain life." Luke 21:19

"Well she was an american girl
Raised on promises
She couldnt help thinkin that there
Was a little more to life
Somewhere else..."Tom Petty

It's getting darker earlier and the 65 degree weather has me wishing I was mellowing down easy with the Black Crowes at Central Park tonight.

Instead, I'm nursing a Brazilian (Oh did I mention South America) Pinot Noir and watching a compelling and rather inspiring documentary on the blacklisted writers during the McCarthy Era who were ostracized from entertainment and sent underground based on their political beliefs (real or suspected) Or as Dalton Trumbo unrepentantly said they were sent to concentration camps for writers...

Freedom of Speech a luxury?

I can read the first amendment just as well as you.

When our freedom of choice is gone...we are an utterly lost nation.

Oh my God. To be part of something so great and impacting in history.

Uh...steady as she goes.

Auditioned for a Dove Deodorant Commercial today in Brooklyn. Looking for that All American Girl next door type with blond hair, blue eyes, glimmering smile, and a twinkling pep in her step. After the close-ups of my arm pits and an interrogation of my shaving rituals...With a fan blowing my face giving me that very authentic windblown style, overlooking downtown Manhattan and Lady Liberty, I gave them the patriotic answers they wanted to hear...

Favorite food you ask??

It's a toss up....Hamburger or Apple Pies....

Don't call us, we'll call you...

So I will remain red, white, blue, and true.

And regardless of the needle in a haystack chances I have (1 in 500) I am already envisioning the Spain stamp in my passport and me a spokesperson for pure and simple beauty all travel expenses paid.

Not history. Not even close. But little leaps towards recognition.

"After all it was a great big world

With lots of places to run to
Yeah, and if she had to die
Tryin she had one little promise
She was gonna keep." TP

I want to write. But in order to write, I have to live. And release myself from the limiting plexiglass world of "hurt feelings".

I want to question authority. I want to dirty dance. I want live music to become my water. I want to run nine qualifying races before the end of the year. I want to learn Spanish. I want to quit making excuses. I want to live my own life. I want to quit feeling guilt. I want the anxiety of whose comfortable to cease. I want to sail the Hudson. I want to take workshops... I want to ONLY drink good beer, that is when I'm not drinking good wine. I want to read the Word. I want to go ZEN in the Trader Joe's line at Union Square. I want to let go of the reigns. I want to only live in the present. I want to say exactly the thoughts in my head without the slightest feeling of regret or sorrow of the image it gives me. (real or suspected)

This is the short list of desires of my heart tonight.

Oh yeah, all right.take it easy baby...

Make it last all night.

She was an American Girl.

Do you succumb to the pressure's of other's wills and wants?

Power to the Peaceful

"Mercy, peace and love be yours in abundance." Jude 1:2

Lost in Thought-please don't send a search party....

Reeling from yet another Psilocybin Spearhead Show.

Michael Franti is nothing short of sexy sensational.

And me, absolutely agreeable.

"So I pray for them and I'll play for them
We all vain, we all strange
We all drained, we all love to just complain.
But nobody wants to seem to get along, ya see
We got shame, we got pain
We got blame, we all a little bit insane

So that's why I sing this song ya know because

EVERYONE DESERVES MUSIC, SWEET MUSIC." MF

Encore it up with...

"I believe in the miracles.

I believe in the spiritual

I believe in the one above.

I believe in the one I love.

And I take one step closer to you...MF

Yep. I've said it once, I've said it twice.

This time through a positive perma-grin. God is so good!

Don't you know the moment you let go, you're free?

*Riddle me this. What do mushrooms and Michael have in common?

They're both fungi's

Franti in NY