And So It Goes

And so it goes . . .
We’ve been here before. We’ve been through tough times. We’ve seen harder days and better ones too. But hey, this is life and there are no guarantees. The second show is never the same as the first but then again, you only get one shot. So, there is no second show.
What I am about to do is share a brutal piece of honesty with you. It’s not pretty. But pretty or not, truth is still truth.

We can’t recreate the past. We can’t take back what was said nor can we uncross the boundaries. In the end, when we face the anxiety of humiliation and exploitation, the question is no longer why or or how did this happen. Instead, the question becomes what am I going to do about it?
How am I going to improve?

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Fix Your Grin

In short, we have to allow for changes. We have to understand that not everything will go as planned and, in fact, not all plans will account for every obstacle.
There will be miscalculations. There will be setbacks. There will be the unexpectedness of natural events. Yet, there will also be days like this when the sun shines and the world awaits us.
So, fix your grin and be ready for it all.
There will be slips and falls and inaccurate assumptions too. As a matter of fact, there’s a word for all of this. It’s called life. Be ready to live it.

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Nostalgia: The Days of Way Back When

There was a time before this time or better yet, there was a time when we were more connected to each other. Everything was different. The music was different. The way we dressed was different.
The world was more user friendly back then. Or wait.
Better yet, the world was more interactive. We gathered more. We talked more and texted less – then again, texting was different back then too.
You had to really mean it when texting began. What I mean is, you had to go by the letters of the alphabet on each number.

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My Love is All

Then there’s love. Then there’s the next level of love which has nothing to do with lust or touch or the magical draw of energy from someone else. Instead, next there’s this level of connection in which you know someone and in your mind, you cannot remember a time when you didn’t know them. Or care. Or want them, need them or regard them.
But still, there is more to this because this cannot be achieved without love, or more accurately, a certain love that comes from within.
There is this undefinable thing; this indescribable feature that people share. There is this position we share, here, under the sun. There are times when the world is nearly empty, as is our heart. And there are times when we consider the word “love” and wonder if this is real – or at least if true love is real. 

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A Taste of Nostalgia – From The Upper Hills and Old Times

It was later than autumn here on Project Earth. The cool winds intercepted the previous warmth of the September month. We had past the times when the leaves were changing and the woven tree-covered mountains took on the various colors of yellow, orange, purple and even red. The trees took on a sea of color to make the canopy of autumn more vibrant and alive.
I swear, one could walk outside and smell the aroma of the season. One could smell the hint of wood burning from fireplaces and escaping through chimneys to permeate the air. At this moment, I could feel the nostalgia. I could feel the memories and taste the emotions which I admit were bitter sweet and beautiful.

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Just to Write: The Day’s of Way Back When

Early morning when the sun was about to show, the night was behind us and the dawn was proof that as young as we were, we were living. We were alive enough to recognize that we beat the dawn and that we broke the night into different pieces of memory. We lived as fast and as wild as we could and throughout the night, we danced and we played and we sweated in the hot celebrations in the downtown scene. We moved with trance-like music beneath the bright lights flashing and strobe lights, beaming and flickering, or pulsating to the techno-sounds and hypnotic beats of club music.

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Stream of Consciousness: I Am –

How amazing it is to think and read or to learn about a person so inspiring and that because of them, we chose to do or we chose to dare. It is amazing to me that we have the ability to affect and inspire. We can spark desire or act as the catalyst of change. I am in awe of you.
Literally in awe.
Whereas, time has proven to me again and again that come one come all, the stage is set. Life is happening before our eyes and yet, some people live, other people watch and some die alive and some people simply wither away.
But not you.

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Play a Song for Me

We used to have to work for things. And I know this gets old. I know this is no different from when I was a kid and my Old Man would say things that began with, “When I was your age,” but either way, it’s true.
We used to have to work for things.
Nothing was this easy. If a song came out or if a band came out with an album, we had to save for this. We had to wait for this. I remember saving up for a tape and walking across town to a record store. Now, when I say tape; the younger generation might be lost. They wouldn’t know what a cassette tape is. 

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Food for Thought

I go back to a perfect day amidst the craziness. I was alone. I was fine for the moment but there was nothing on my walls and nothing in my drawers. I was alone for the first time in my life. There was no one to report to and no one to speak with. My answering machine was empty. I could tell by the red double-zeroes which reminded me that no one called and no one cared.

I suppose this is what it means to be on your own. The rest of the world was tending to their business and me, I was moving in a different direction. I was back in my old town in Long Island. I returned like a son who grew and returned home to their Mother—hoping for some warmth or if nothing else, at least a good bowl of soup or something comforting. But in my case, Mom was gone. My Mother had passed. My Father had passed. My family was scattered in different locations. Some of my family were caught in the snags of family brawls and arguments and me, I was far from neutral at the time.

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September 11, 2021: Twenty Years Later

I will write softly today, which is like the morning as it is, quiet and gentle, and yet solemn in memory. I am someone whose memory of this day is one that dates back to an uptown address and a rooftop. I was there. I was within clear view of the sky on this morning, twenty years ago today. And I think to myself, “How could this be?”
How does time move so quickly and yet so slowly? Sometimes, time can be so painful that it doesn’t move at all. Instead, we just just sit there. We hover in the moment to witness life’s unthinkable terms, totally powerless and with no control.

It is 8:16 now. It will be 8:46 in a short while. That’s when the first plane hit. And I want to send this out before the time strikes. I want to hold this moment like I wish I had during the quiet before the storm, but hey, time is time, and like you told me, “No one knows the hour or the day.” Am I right?

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