There are moments of awareness that are common between us. For example, there are times when we say goodbye to people, places, and things.
There are goodbyes, and then there are last goodbyes and of course, there are the final goodbyes that no one realizes that yes, this is our last goodbye and there will never be another opportunity to say “hello” again.

I have experienced all the different types of goodbyes and furthermore, I agree there are last times and times when we’ll say “never again!”
There are moments when we’ll swear to the sky that this is the last time that we will go somewhere or see someone or do something
I have sworn these things off too. I’ve sworn off the things that we’ve tried to swear away or promised ourselves that no matter what, “I’ll never do that again.”

After years of collecting my personal data and studying myself to find a better perspective, I have gathered my past experiences to add them to a pile of my secret yesterdays. I can see how the pile is so high that I swear I could pile them up to the sun.

I find myself asking the constant and age-old questions about me and the black and white difference between good and evil.
First, I have to say that no, I am not a bad man. However, I can attest that yes, I have done bad things.

Perhaps one could argue that I am not a good man either. But yes, I know that I have done good things too.
After all, I am only human.
I am flawed like the rest of us. I have highs and lows and I have two columns next to my name which define the difference between my wins and losses.
And yes. I have both.

When there is no warmth from the sun or when the kindness from the hands of loved ones are gone away or too far to touch and too distant to hear from, and when the room is empty, the crowd is gone and the attention dwindled to an emptiness, there is no way to avoid the reflection in the mirror or the absence of company.
So on I go with my fair share of introspetive therapy.

I think it is important to experience this. I think pain is important, and likewise, I would never wish this or my experience on anyone.
I would never hope for anyone to find themselves alone. I do not wish anyone this kind of thing or to be locked in a cage or separated and isolated in one prison or another.
Justice is due to the right justice.
And none of this is about any of that.

More than what I see and even more that what you think or assume, and beyond what either of us think or feel or believe about the reflection I see in the mirror, there is an ongoing truth concerning the difference between facts and opinion.
There are certain facts which go beyond our approval and denial.
One of these facts are I am me and you are you and despite faults and flaws or similarities and differences; we both live and breathe. Then again, living and breathing are left up to interpretation.

Of course, one could argue that the ideas of living and breathing can be relative.

I think living and being alive are two different things.
Don’t you?
I know people who are alive and yet, they never dared or tried or had the chance to live their life to the fullest possible experience.

The sky looks tired this morning.
Just like me.
The reflection in the mirror has aged since this time last year.
Then again, everything has aged since this time last year.

I am reminded of a joke from a famous comedian. Unfortunately, his name escapes me.
However, the joke still remains. But I promise to find him and advise you of his name at the end of this entry.

The comedian was asked by someone, “Would you like to see a picture of me when I was younger?”
The comedian answered, “every picture of you is a picture of you when you were younger.”

I know.
Time has a way of clearing the blurred vision of my past.
And again, I agree that I see things differently.
I feel things differently too.
I swear, it’s like my Old Man used to tell me.
“You’ll understand when you get older.”

Well, I am older now.
At the same time, I relate to a quote I saw the other day.
“Apparently, I am not old enough to know better.”
ah, the morning.
The fogginess and the clouds are strange this morning.
I sipped my coffee on the train ride to work and thought about the chores ahead of me.

I thought about the need to be elsewhere, like, say, far away and down by where the waters are crystal clear and the palm trees sway with a kind resolve and the wind blows across my body as I lay beneath the sun.
God, I wish I was sexy at least once.

No one talks about the different degrees of manhood or the early years when manhood is on the horizon. But I often find myself questioning the past or the times when I was disloyal to my truths and failed to follow my dreams.
No one notices how the younger freedoms of an earlier life is a fleeting thing, which is moving fast and growing farther behind me. No one sees this until it is too late and the past is a far-moving thing that grows more distant without closure or a proper goodbye.

I say this often enough and yet; I have to say this again. I always believed that age and the future is something that happens to old people.
I swore that I would never grow old.
I would never become too serious.
I swore that I would never be weak and that I would never stop. I swore that I would always be shooting like stars in the post-midnight at pre-dawn and wild like I used to be in the pre-millennium afterhours places in SoHo.

There are places which I have never been or seen in real life. However, there are places, like Memphis, or places even the idea of a rainy night in Baltimore that somehow reconnect me to songs from my young adult life.
Music . . .
God, where would I be without you?

I remember the feelings that used to come over me when I heard a song called Sweet Thing from Van Morrison.
I suppose I felt the same way when I heard van Morrison sing Into The Mystic.
This was another good one.
I remember the way I felt when I heard the introduction to the song.
“We were born before the wind.”
I swore that you have to be young and in love to understand lyrics like this.
I was young once.
I was in love too.

You
Above all else and above any other and all other things.
You

I can see you looking back at me.
I can tell.
I can

I know your secrets.
I know why you struggle to look at yourself when seeing the mirrors you pass.

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.

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.

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.