October 31, 2026
Halloween comes with stories of both truth and fiction
And, so –
I offer you my truth without fiction:
I suppose that in the spirit of this day, I can expose some of the spirits to which I assume divide the line between good and evil.
Therefore, if I am to define both good and evil, then I need to expose myself and all that was evil.
Halloween is only one day.
At the time, a day in the life saw more spirits of the damned than a night in costumes to play make-believe.
I swear.
There are parts of me, all different and often opposing one another.
I am an imperfect mix of different characteristis.
Or –
Like anyone else, I am a mix of all the colors under the rainbow.
I am dark and light and gray in-between.
I have qualities that allow me to stand out.
I have a voice.
I have rights and I have flaws or cracks and imperfections in this thing, which I call my façade.
After all, I am only human at best
I am simple. I am difficult.
I come with my fair share of joys and complications.
Yes. This is me.
The darker mornings amaze now, and yet, I am no stranger to the change of seasons and nor is it unfamiliar to me that days grow shorter in the wintertime and the nights grow longer.
However, I am amazed at how fast times change hands and hence, I am amazed at the hour and the darkness since it was recent that the sun stayed out later and woke earlier.
This question is not to be taken lightly and nor does this question have to mean everything, but it does. The question is not light by any means. However, the question I am about to ask myself does not have to weigh so heavily or weigh me down.
No.
To be fair to all sides including me, myself and I or with the idea of being fair to my mind, body and soul, questions like the following are often unanswered if not avoided.
And of course, there is always a reason why we run and hide.
Therefore, let me stand and face the time
Rather than escape the truth; I realize the cold, hard fact that when it comes to saving face; you cannot save your ass and your face at the same time
And ah, the plagues of ego and pride.
The problems of self and how they degrade me.
And ah, the fading light of the falling sun going down after another day here in Purgatory.
Beauty goes anywhere it chooses. I know this as much as I know there is a sky above and the ground below. I know that the moon has shown its face differently and currently, the autumn moon holds a few colors, which are enough to change a sullen moment into a hopeful idea that life can change at any given moment.
I do believe in beauty.
And like I said, beauty can go anywhere it chooses because no matter how the times may be, a spark of beauty will always outshine any brand of darkness.
I have heard the words, “this is the life.”
I think about what this means. I think about the places I have been or the views I have seen, which are beautiful and perhaps local and maybe they are only subjective to me, a typical New Yorker with an accent and all.
But I can say that I have seen beautiful things.
I was listening to a song the other morning.
I am not too familiar with the music of today or the youth of today and at the same time, I heard the words to the lyrics.
“Man, this must be the life.”
I thought this was brilliant.
And here’s why –
The sky was beautiful yesterday.
I’m not sure if you saw this or not
Maybe you did.
Or did you?
The clouds were like strips of long feathers. I swear. . .
The clouds were like strands of long peacock feathers all long and stretched and perfectly white.
I had to notice this.
This one was not easy –
But necessary things are not always easy things to do.
And so –
Here it goes.
There is nothing quite like the moonlight when you sit on the roof somewhere and look up. I love this. I love being far above the ground and far above the regular world.
I can call this a safe place, despite perhaps the dangers of falling.
But I know I won’t fall.
Not from up here.
I do agree. Absolutely.
I agree that we move around this great big world and we travel in circles.
I know it. I know this both deeply and intimately.
I know there is a trick to this, somewhere.
And me?
Yes.
You are right. You have always been right about me.
I am stuck on a word or maybe fixated is a better description. The word itself is simple and part of our everyday life whether we think about it or not
Gravity . . .
I can say that my experience with gravity or the absence thereof shows me the difference between heavy and lighthearted things.
I can see how my association with either dark and heavy or light and lighthearted things can determine the mood for the rest of my day.
I remember the first time I heard The Beatles sing “and in the end, the love we take is equal to the love we make.”I was younger then. Of course.
I was much different too.
But so was the world and so was my address, so was my state of mind and my lifestyle and so were the times, and so was the people, places, and the things around me.
Life changes and so do we.
Love changes too and then again, the alterations and the changes we face can be eye-opening to say the least. The changes we experience can be partly lifesaving, partly hurtful, and partly hopeful that yes, in the end, the love we need is equal to the love we have. Or God . . .
so I hope.
I wish I could defy age and time but as it is, age and time are always going to be undefeated.
Therefore, I had to take a look into my past so that I can spring ahead and move forward.
And I get it.
I do.
This is a contradiction of terms if not a contradiction of what I say to myself when I say, “the past is gone and you and I don’t live there anymore.”
But dig it . . .
Today is another day above the dirt and therefore, so long as I am above the dirt, I reserve the right to update my thinking.
There was a quarter moon hanging low in the sky last night. My thoughts and my heart were indicative of the time and the view, which was pretty and sad at the same time.
I am amazed at the world’s beauty and how the prettiness of a low-hanging moon appears to be a gift, like a sight for sore eyes, and a present to remind me that nothing is so ugly or so desparate.
The moon and the seasons are not an enemy, only changing, and they are only reminders that we need to notice the good things that life can show us.
The yellowish part of the moon had been spun upside down and the rest was the upper part, which was more like a shadowy outline of the heavenly body.
Beautiful.
The rain made the cool winds a little colder this morning. I must have closed my eyes or maybe I failed to pay attention.
But either way, the clock is ticking.
October is on its way to a quick finish and moving like a bullet about to shoot from the barrel and explode and be gone.
November is right around the corner and moving fast.
Either way, I know that you and I are one day closer to an answer.
And whether the answer pulls us closer together or sets us farther apart, remains to be seen. All I can say is at least a day will come when you and I know the answer.
I love this time of day. . .
Quitting time.
It is another day above the dirt . . .
More accurately, it is sunset in my mid to moderate sized town in the suburbs.
I am south of Paradise and north of damned. Or more to the point and for all else who fail to understand, I am somewhere between Purgatory and all points east of Eden.
Or maybe I am west of the infernal, depending upon the view or the time of day and the flow of traffic.
I am somewhere familiar and someplace that knows me well enough to call me “The Prince,” even though my castle has been both violated and destroyed a few years back.
It is autumn now –
the winds are not the same as they were a short time ago.
But I am fine.
I am not sure how the transition came or went or how the sun began to sink much faster now.
But like the Good Preacher says after his sermon, “as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be forever,” to which I say, “amen.”
My side of the world is cooling down and the four seasons are always looking to prove themselves to us in the Northeast.
We are moving away from the sun, incrimentally, and yes.
I know the summer will be back. All matters like this will return sooner than we think,
Time always moves.
Time waits for no one. Isn’t that right?
So as I look to find the splendor in the here and now, then let me exhale and expose the doubts and find some kind of soothing nature or at minimum; please, allow me a semblance of beauty.
just for now –
or just this once
I wonder . . .
Has there ever been a day or a time that stands out in your mind when you have seen your reflection in the mirror and felt good about it?
I laugh at times and think about the young man’s struggle and the games and the dating rituals and how insignificant this really is. However, at the time, I used to invest everything on the outer layers and the looks, the image, or the identity of me or the person I dated.
And unfortunately, I have to admit to my shallowness. However, and at the same time, I recognize one of my traits to which I am proud to say that yes; I can find beauty in people.
When there is no one else around and the loud crowds from the bars and nightclubs and the afterhours spots and late night places are gone away, and when the Downtown and the cobblestone streets and the streetlamps give way to morning’s light; or when the subtle nirvana ends the music and there is nothing left but muddy puddles by the garbage bags over near Mercer Street, I’d start to wonder if I was missing out on the heroic loveliness of a much bigger picture.
There must be something better out here.
There has to be. And I don’t know if I knew what it was or if I knew what was missing. But I always knew something was off-center or just amiss.
There was a wild afternoon from my early to mid teens, which I remember oddly and somewhat funny of course, and yet I cannot say that I remember much of what happened at all.
No, this was one of those wild afternoons that I took a few extra steps to secure with a n 8-hour trip on a substance known as Lysergic Acid Diethylamide.
Yes. This was ‘the girl,” or also known as “lucy in the skies with diamonds.”
But what the hell, right?
I was young and crazy and longhaired and fit to be tied.
You hear a lot of things throughout your life.
I know this.
I know what I heard when I was young, like, say, “look both ways when you cross the street.”
This is good advice, by the way.
I agree with one of my greatest literary heroes, Robert Fulghum, and I agree with him most of all when he talked about all he needed to know, he already learned in kindergarten.
I agree that words have meaning.
I agree that it’s a good idea to always have a buddy, share, play nice, and hold hands when you are crossing the street.
These things are great things to hear and more, these things are great ideas to practice.
The one thing I know above all else is that no matter what happens, no matter how tired you might be, no matter how hard the world hits you or how hard you fall down, you have to get back up and keep swinging.
You always have to fight back as hard as you can.
You have to swing that axe and let the chips fall where they may.
I know this
And you do too.
I have seen great things. I have been to great places.
I have had good times and I have had bad times.
I have seen great things and sad things.
I have see beauty and watched the most beautiful people become as ugly as their lies.
I have been sick and I have been healthy and well enough to look around and be happy with what I have.
Yes.
This is true –
Act 3: Scene: One and done
July, 1991
I went back after being ahead
And what I mean is I lost my way and went back to being lost instead of finding my way home.
I lost it all
And you look back and you think and you wonder
You wish and you dream and you have ideas of what you could have said.
I wish I said more.
I wish I did more.
I wished I was better.
I wish I was bigger and bolder.
But I was only me.
Act 2: Scene 3
December, 1989.
Christmas Eve
I never had much of a relationship with God and nor did I ever have the words to speak with God. My younger years showed me a disconnect because to me, religion caused wars and fights and in my experience, what God you chose was more important than say, the kind of man you are or the house you lived in.
Religion caused a disconnect.
This caused arguments over which God was right and who was wrong
Plus –
I was a Jew . . .
And there was nothing cool about being a Jew. I saw hate. I saw swastikas and I was shown the hatred for my so-called chosen people.
And as for the word chosen, I never understood what this meant?
How was I chosen? And what was I chosen for?
And, if anyone were chosen or if anyone were truly chosen and loved by God, then why would there be so much hatred?
Act 2: Scene 2
December, 1989.
Exit the stage and look at the pleasant aftermath of a holiday that was well spent.
Think about this . . .
Regard the thoughts and the feelings that come with having a full belly and a happy heart after Thanksgiving dinner.
The air was growing colder in the town of Hancock, New York.
The season was underway and the mountains held the frost each morning as if to lace the trees along the mountainsides.
I can say that I had never seen a winter wonderland until I was far away from my surroundings and the so-called city life.
I was new. At least to some degree.
I was moving away from an older version of myself and yes, this was good.
Of course, this was good.
Act 2: Scene 1
November, 1989.
Everything was about to change
All the leaves on the sides of the mountains changed from green to orange and red. Most of the leaves fell in the beginning of November, but some of the remnants of autumn had yet to let go, despite the upcoming moments of winter.
It had snowed a few times.
The view was spectacular, but where I was at the time was more for a legal and therapeutic reaction to a sentenced and legal response.
Act 2: Scene 1
A new phase of life. October 1989 . . .
Late autumn, just before winter takes place.
Enter my time in the Upstate, New York mountains
Enter my moments of subtle awareness that became too painful and obvious to avoid.
Enter my moments of truth and enter the awakening that I had lived, believed, and that I surrendered and subscribed to a series of lies, deceptions, and internal dishhonesties.
Enter all of this
Act 1: Scene 3
The holding cell
I knew that an ending was on the way.
I knew the impending doom was moving too fast.
I remember being told that it is only by dying that one is awakened to eternal light.
And I remember being told that life comes with opportunities, and, so, when one door closes, another door opens.
Tragedies can lead us to the greatest comebacks, or so I was told.
I do not know about these things.
Or, maybe I know more than I think
Act 1: Scene 2
End of summer 1989 –
August was not what I assumed it was going to be
I don’t know what happened.
Then again, no one ever assumes that “this would be them,” or that the worst case would be the best case, and in my case to say the least, the worst was the best case scenario. I say this was the best case for me because had it not been for this moment; I might have not have been around to be this, your modest and humble narrator. I might not have survived or been around to tell a story about another tragic and somewhat eventful teenage life.
I found myself in the back of a squad car with handcuffs on my wrists. But please, allow me to explain.
I was sick to say the least. The junk in my veins was beginning to grow more important and so, the rules and the regulations of my habit were more concerning and certainly I realized why my habit was becoming more demanding.
Act 1: Scene 1
August, 1989, Archer Avenue across from the post office, two doors down from the numbers joint and four doors down from the methadone clinic.
Hot summer. Early morning.
Enter the sunlight. Enter the stage, dead center and in the middle of real life.
This was me and this was life as it was.
This is how everything was back then, of course
The previous night’s demons are scattered in tiny skeletons that proved our deaths with plastic vials, which have all been noted by the news and the media as an earlier epidemic that killed at different speeds.
Continue readingThe warm air is fading from the wind the same as the memories from last year grow more distant, just like how the Earth moves away from the sun when winter comes around.
New York City is about to see another season and I am about to undergo another change.
I know.
The world is a cyclical place. We have four seasons. We have our bouts. We have our moments of joy and pain. We have days in the sun, moments when it rains, and times when it snows.
We have mornings when the ground thaws during the first warmth in spring.
I love the differences between these seasons. And I love them all for different reasons.
My kingdom for a horse . . .
This comes from Shakespeare’s King Richard III when he said, “A horse, a horse. My kingdom for a horse.”
I suppose a horse would be of great use, or perhaps this might come at a greater expense. But more, I suppose wealth and cost is all relative when it comes to the different levels of supply and demand.
And yes. Of course!
I have my own demands, but perhaps now is not the time for to express them.
I think about myself and then of course, I think about my old and former self with the same and perhaps normal or commonplace questions of “where have I been,” or “what the hell was I thinking?”
Continue readingMaybe I should go back to that spot where healing is supposed to take place. Or maybe the special dirt that I collected did not take. Maybe I need to grab another sample from the blessed Earth behind the church in old El Chimayo or pray more, like I did that afternoon in the old chapel where I watched an old woman weep and her son wheel her chair to the nearest candle.
Maybe . . .
Maybe the answers I sought were not the answers I prayed for. Or maybe my requests were denied for reasons that did not present themselves until now.
There has to be a time when we say to hell with it. There has to be a time when we say life is life death is death and all we have is this moment. Understand?
All we have is this, which is right here and right now.
There has to come a time when enough is enough and so, now becomes the time to make a difference between the definition of what it means to live or die.
Living is far more than just existing
And dying alive is far worse than dying alone.
There is no more time to waste.
There is no more time to give in or to give up and there is no more room for excuses and doubts.
There was a big storm last night. The wind picked up and there were trees down on the street.
I can hear the wind and the rain are still blowing around but the storm has mostly passed and all that’s left are the remnants of a northeast storm that devastated the weekend.
I sit here now and I have my trusty companion with me.
Ah, thank God for trusty companions.
And no, this is not a person or an animal but instead, I have my cup of coffee which is what I needed this morning.
Or wait.
No.
I have other needs which do not need to be mentioned at this time.
I say the same thing all the time. I tell everyone if you don’t know, then you just don’t know.
And to act like you know or to insinuate that you do can be seen as an insult or counterproductive.
There is something to be said about the act and the process and the actual motions of going through something.
And I get it. Everything is subjective.
Everything is left open to interpretation and of course, fiction can become facts and facts can become fiction.
True things can be disagreed and be false and lies can become truths, at least from a personal standpoint.
We are fools at times. We are all subject to the deception of our own perception and in the case of us against life or me against me and I against I, there is a real world going on around me. There are so many things that I have not seen or experienced enough to understand and again, there are times when the fact remains.
If you don’t know, then you just don’t know.
And that’s okay . . .
I do not waste my time and tempt fate or dare the odds of my unforeseen destiny anymore.
At least, not like I used to.
I am too far gone now. I am far from the person I was and growing farther from the distant shadows that used to remind me of what took place on 3rd Avenue and 54th Street.
I am grateful for this, however, so please understand that despite my past and my mistakes; I am aware of who I am now and in the end, awareness is the key which can open the door to a brand new life.
Or, at least, so I hope.
So, you want honesty?
Okay, Let’s take it from here
Shall we?
And you know too. You know all about it.
You know about the ground beneath you and how it disappears. You know why everything you held dearly is gone and you know why the bottom lost hold and the fall is going to be far greater than any fall you’ve ever taken before.
You know.
You know all about it.
Maybe you have one or two options. Maybe there are a few choices.
Maybe.
But whatever the choices are, neither of them are attractive. None of your options are what you wanted and yet, this is it.
There you are. Alive and unwell and living pout loud while being consumed in the belly of the beast.
There was a video of a young woman who was asked why she wrote so many love poems.
The young girl responded honestly and with an answer that made sense to me.
She writes love poems instead of suicide notes.
Well done, I say.
Her answer is excellent, I tell you.
I am the same.
I write about love
or you
and I write about my love because the adverse or the opposite is unthinkable to me.
I understand what it means to feel lost or elsewhere and what t means to be or believe as if to be out of this hemisphere and more, I get how it is to seem like a stranger while alive and well and living here in familiar territory.
My best memory of times when I was supposedly well or fine enough to be welcomed is when I was alone or by myself. I chose to break free like a lion or a tiger who escaped and broke free from his cage. I chose the separation between myself and the crowd and so, I decided to go and find myself by walking around the streets of New York City.
Continue readingThe sun is later today. I looked up at the sky to watch the clouds moving overhead. and I can see the rain wants to let go and take a break for a while.
I can tell.
The sky has a different feel to me this morning. Maybe too many changes took place at once.
Or maybe everything is different now and the rain that came only served to wash away the remnants of my crazy yesterdays.
But dig it . . .
Continue readingIt is strange to think that today marks 54 times that I have spun around the sun.
I have somehow managed to survive 54 trips.
54 birthdays.
54 times that I can say yes, I managed to pull off another year.
And yes, age is a funny thing.
Age is neither kind nor unfair and at the same time, age is one hell of a trip.
My body went from very small to bigger than what I expected. Also, my life has changed more times than people change sides with their political views.
I can understand the reason why people take a drink or a pill or look to find something that helps them sail beyond the concrete on the sidewalks of New York City.
I have been here for as long as I can remember. However, I have moved around from the Eastside, Westside, Uptown and as my life has turned, I am currently Downtown.
I work across the street from Ground Zero which is the spot where The Towers used to stand.
I am here at work more days than I am not here, which is how life goes when it comes to being an adult.
I look out from a big window on the 15th floor from my place of business and I look downward and see the memorial pools where the buildings used to stand.
And it all comes down to this. . .
There is only one truth and no amount of acting or pretending can change the truth
So then, what is true?
I suppose truth is often questioned because some people deny their truths and say “well, this is not true to me.”
But truth is truth.
Truth does not concern itself with us or how we think or feel about these things.
Truth is truth.
That is all.
I see no reason not to lie.
So, let’s be honest. I see no reason why anyone should deny their thoughts or their feelings.
Sometimes, you need to scream.
I see no reason why we don’t do this.
We should be able to scream if we need to scream.
We can shout when we need to shout.
And yes, I know.
I get it. I do
I understand this might not be a good look, so-to-speak.
The noises you hear in this place are not like anywhere else. I hate these rooms.
I hate hospitals or more, I cannot stand emergency rooms
I hate the tones from the nearby machines and the mumbling from the other patients.
I hate the dull groans from the sick and of course, I cannot stand the louder ones, or the cries in pain or the screams and the pleading for a nurse or a doctor to help come and help or take the pain away.
And the worst?
The worst are the quiet ones, the parents who sit helpless and scared, praying with all their might and whether they are faithless or not; everyone finds God when the life of their child is on the line.
I have heard it said that you’ve grown when you start to find gratitude in the moments we are least grateful for.
I can appreciate that . . .
Maybe this is maturity. Or maybe this is what happens when we reach a better level of understanding.
Maybe this is what people call awareness. Or maybe the pain or the regrets found some kind of relief and subsided enough to let the resentments find peace.
Peace . . .
What a word this is.
Maybe this is the kind of growth that despite the storm and all the damages and the aftermath, something good came from something bad.
Continue readingI keep saying that I know there is more. I know there is.
I say this often enough that even I roll my eyes and say, “not again with this,” and still, I have to say this anyway.
I know there is more out there for me.
I know there is more to life and I know that at minimum, there is more than the common items that glimmer like gold.
I know there are more things out there to see and there is more for me to say and do.
I know there is more out there than commonplace beauties, which are socially graced and picked first or noticed because of a greatness that is either flesh-based or surface level.
I know there is more.
There has to be.
Understand something.
Everyone has their own science.
Everyone . . .
Everyone has their own way of seeing and understanding and processing information. We all learn in a way that makes sense to us and to some people, the easy things are difficult for others.
Everyone has their own pathology to which I say yes, I have mine too.
I have my own science.
I have my own chemistry which is flawed and perfect or perfectly flawed and yes, I have details and characteristics that make up my own unique and personal description.
I know. Or at least I believe that I know.
I know you have to find a way to somehow detach or unwind. And I get it.
I know what it means to need to get away or to want to break free.
And so, if I know this, then I also know what it means to be stuck in a maze or to get caught in some kind of a game with high stakes. You know?
Your life is on the line.
Your survival is on the line too and all you can do is either fold or bet into a losing hand
Thursday afternoon or closer to the evening.
I am not sure what the time was.
I stood with my coffee like the others who await a train to take them home after their daily grind to make their daily bread. I live and I die and in-between, I work for a so-called living so that I can pay my taxes and I can pay my way and I pay my share.
I was thinking about the lopsided and the unfairness which seems apparent at times.
And then I stood there . . .
I waited for my track to be announced so I could go home, shower, eat, exercise, sleep and then repeat the same thing the next day.
I stood contemplating the days ahead of me> I considered things, like the life I have. I thought about the places I’ve been to, the life I’ve lived, and of course, I thought about the money I’ve spent.
