Sunday, July 11, 2010

Change of Plans

"For the Son of Man came to seek and to save what was lost." Luke 19:10

“I know I'm searching for something
Something so undefined
That it can only be seen
By the eyes of the blind
In the middle of the night.” Billy Joel

Six hours on Long Beach and I feel like the dried up brown crusties that have sat there with tanning oil and copious amounts of Pringles, ten weeks out of the year for the last decade of their lives.

How come the beaches in the northeast charge for sun squatting and are occupied by the droves...whereas in the lovely south, public means free and you don't swim right next to others confusing seaweed with pubic.

Yes, something is clearly wrong with my attitude and psyche towards New York and its inhabitants right now. I leave my house before sunrise and step over the vagrants sleeping at my doorstep well after sunset so they can ask me for a dollar.

I am pushing my sleepless self in a career that is slowly chipping away at my unwavering foundation of physical confidence in a mentally painful, Botox considering way.

Where once I found pleasure in concentrating on the animalistic ways in human behavior and wrote more of the same. I now am annoyed at simpletons rating restaurants and liberal intellectuals pissing on my "small minded" faith.

I blame a lot of things these days. I question the future.

I agree with the cover of New York Magazine that parents are significantly unhappier than non parents and I consider reneging on the deal with my child hungry husband.

I think of leaving the East Village.

The wanderlust bug has a bite called discontentment.

Now what?


1 comment:

  1. Yeah the tide of mood, Like or Unliking the city, goes in and out.
    I unlike hot hot summers. Last year was a lot nicer, never really hot, even with 40 days of rain.
    I read a book a bout happiness a couple years ago. There was a chart in it of the married couple. When the kids came their happiness went way down, when they went to school a little higher. Out of the house, bad to the pre-child happiness days.
    I love my borrowed babies very very much.

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